


I hate you (I can't stop thinking about you)

by Aliiice



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Love/Hate, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25205941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aliiice/pseuds/Aliiice
Summary: Beth hates Rio and Rio hates Beth.Rio sends Beth on a business trip.Only a plot twist could make these two weak for each other again.
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 37
Kudos: 512





	1. Chapter 1

“The package is in Salt lake city.” He explains as Mick comes back to his side in front of the picnic table after putting the boxes of cash in the car.

“In Utah?” Beth says in shock.

“No in Canada.” Rio mocks.

Beth ignores the comment. It’s dark but she still catches Mick’s discreet smirk.

“How am I supposed to go there?”

“Flight.”

He’s being dismissive and Beth hates it. She hates how he _makes_ her ask more questions and then acts like he doesn’t like it. _Just tell it straight if you don’t want to be bothered_ , she thinks.

She glances at Mick, trying to find some sympathy but she only finds a stone-cold face.

“Okay, and am I supposed to pay for it? Is it going to be deducted from my cut?”

He inhales then clears his throat and turns to look at her, stretching his shoulders back.

“You ain’t got not cut in this.” He says, as if it’s obvious.

“What?” 

“You doin’ this so I don’t put a bullet in yo’ head.”

She gulps.

Right. She did suggest doing a job to gain back his trust. And picking up a package is a small price for what she did to him. A package for a life. Maybe she’s being spared a little.

Well, he’s probably never going to let it go but if putting up with his snarky comments and his pettiness is all she has to do to stay alive she’s fine with it. She’s dealt with it before. It’s nothing she can’t bear. For now.

He watches her reaction carefully, and enjoys seeing her lose all confidence at his words, his stare daring her to respond.

Beth might be a little bit reckless sometimes but she knows right now is not the time to be. Keeping her mouth shut is the thing to do.

“Your flight’s tomorrow.”

Beth cannot help herself. The word pops out of her mouth and a little bit too loud.

“What?”

He gives her a look and she composes herself. Though she can’t help the annoyance in her voice.

“Can’t it wait? Does it have to be tomorrow?”

“Don’t argue, Elizabeth.” His cold tone is like a warning.

She still asks:

“And you couldn’t tell me before?”

Then he looks at her all smug.

“No.” She can see the tiniest smile at the corner of his lips.

“Gotta go now. Don’t be late tomorrow. I’m sure you won’t disappoint.” He does give her a smile now, a forced one. 

Beth doesn’t like to be told last minute and certainly not by Rio _nor_ when he has her cornered like that. She’s pretty pissed off she has to go all the way to Utah just for one damn package. 

The thing is: she hates him. But she needs the money so she's forced to work with him. _For_ him. She could do it alone. Hell, she _used to_ do it alone. And quite well. She doesn't need him. She'd rather have him out of the picture. Away from her business. Away from _her._

And he hates her. He wants nothing to do with her. But he needs the money. And she turned out to be useful. But that's all she is. Useful. If she weren't he'd have her killed. He could still do it. And when he doesn't need her anymore, not "if" but "when", then he'll do it. But right now he needs money to pay off his fucking debts. So he can't afford to turn down an opportunity to make easy money. 

* * *

“In Utah?”

Beth makes a gesture with her hand to tell him to keep his voice low as she closes the bedroom door behind them.

“Yes, Dean, where else would it be?” 

“Why does it have to be so far away?”

She enters the en suite to get ready for bed.

“I don’t know Dean. It’s just another job.”

“Just another job? It could be dangerous out there!”

She peaks her head out of the bathroom, wiping her mascara off.

““Out there”? Why would it be any different than any other jobs I’ve done?”

“Well, I don’t know what kind of “jobs” you do for him. I just know you could literally go anywhere for him.”

Dean stands, hands on his hips. Beth heads back in the bathroom to remove her makeup properly.

“It’s just a job Dean, just the location is different.”

“Right, and you don’t mind going all the way to Utah for this guy but you couldn’t go on a vacation two weeks ago because it was too far away.”

Beth doesn’t answer right away. She gets into her pajamas and reenters the bedroom.

“Please Dean, you wanted to go to Italy, it’s not the same. Also, I said no because we don’t have anyone to look after the children and we can’t afford a trip to Venice anyway.”

Dean conveniently ignores her answer.

Beth starts removing the pillows from the head of the bed since Dean was too busy questioning her to do it while she was in the bathroom. 

“What if they have guns?”

“Who?”

She moves her head as to tell him to help her prepare the bed.

“The guys you’re going to meet with, what if they have guns?”

He opens the covers.

“Did you think the other jobs I did never involved guns?”

She gets into bed.

“I don’t know.”

Dean stays standing, dubious.

Beth sighs.

“Didn’t _you_ buy a shotgun just a few weeks ago?”

“Yeah but that’s different.”

“I really don’t see how.”

She wants to put an end to this conversation.

“Look Dean, I have a job to do so I’m going to do it. This job will benefit our family, including you so stop arguing. It’s my business and it will stay that way. Now turn down the lights and get into bed, I’m tired.”

* * *

She hates thinking about him. But after this meeting there are just too many questions in her head. Where is she going? How long is it going to take? How long will she have to work for him? _When can she be done with him?_

He didn’t even give her any details. Does he think he can use her whenever he wants? She has a life, a job, children to take care of.

Dean fell asleep in seconds, of course. He likes to make a fuss about everything related to her side business, to Rio, but it doesn’t stop him from sleeping. Not like her. Her mind is racing thinking about him. She hates that. But what she really hates is being told last minute about an unpaid job in _Salt Lake City_. 

And he hates thinking about her. But he's actually anxious about this trip. Will she go through with it? How difficult can she get about it? _Because she can get pretty fucking difficult_. 

Although it _was_ fun to see the look on her face when he told her about it, he can't have her complain to him all week. He just won't bear it. He wants her gone for a reason. 

Maybe if he gives her a little bit more details she’ll be less annoying about it. Maybe he can even tell her in detail everything she has to do and then they can be done with it. No need to talk about it. No need to talk to each other until it’s done. That seems like a better plan.

Rio likes to play with Beth. Every time he sees her, he wants to break her, he wants to see how far he can push her. But right now, he's tired of playing, he wants her _gone_. 

* * *

She turns over and over in her bed until she decides to take her phone. She’ll text him. Or call him. She doesn’t care how late it is. She needs more details about this mission. He can’t just text her her plane ticket and leave it like that.

The second she lights on her phone, she receives a text from him.

“ _Bar_ ”

It’s a bit rude of him to ask her to get out this late, and mostly to assume she’s up and available _for_ him at all times. But she won’t mention it because she needs to talk to him and she guesses being face to face will make things easier, and quicker.

She gets out of bed ever slowly: if she wakes up Dean there’s no way she’s going to the bar. Or she would have to lie to him, wait for him to fall asleep again and _then_ sneak out, but there’s no way Rio is waiting that long. And there’s no way she’s telling Dean where she’s going.

Fortunately, he’s a deep sleeper. She puts on the first thing she finds and heads out.

When she arrives at the bar he’s already here, alone. Completely alone. She wonders if this bar is ever opened for the public or if he just wastes money owning a bar that never has any clients. Anyway, something tells her there’s a good reason they are always alone when they meet at night there.

He has a drink and there’s another one on the bar next to him. The drink is brown, it’s probably a bourbon he ordered for her. She hadn’t planned on drinking but she doesn’t want to bring tension by refusing to drink it.

She settles on the stool beside him and takes a sip of her drink.

He looks at her throat when she does. Feeling his eyes on her, Beth loses confidence, she wonders if the drink wasn't for her after all, she feels her cheeks start to pinken.

His eyes rise to her lips and he seems bothered. 

Feeling self-conscious she realizes there's a drop of alcohol cold on the bottom right corner of her lips. She wipes it with her index knuckle then bites her lips.

“You wanted to meet?” she calls out to him trying to take control of the situation but her voice comes out louder than needed in an empty room.

He's pulled out of his thoughts and blames fatigue when he realizes he was staring at her lips and wetting his own.

He plasters his infamous cold and indifferent look on his face and takes a sip of his drink, acting like she didn’t catch the way his eyes lingered on her.

“Yeah. About that trip-”

He leaves it hanging and it already annoys her. The way he _asks_ her here and then makes her wait. She hates how rude he can be.

“I’m listening.”

He cocks an eyebrow to her.

He hates how impatient she is. He already hated the idea of having to talk to her. Now she’s going to make him regret texting her.

“Once you get there you have to pick up a package at the airport.”

“Where?”

He hates it when she interrupts him.

“You’ll see.”

“Aren’t we here to discuss details?”

She hates how difficult he is about saying literally anything. He always has to keep everything to himself, leave her in the dark. 

“You’ll receive information in time.”

She nods. She’s annoyed but she understands she won’t get more from him. Good. Because he can’t give her more information. That’s not how it works. When he’ll know and when she’ll need it, he will give her the information.

“Then you’re gonna have to give that package to my guy there.”

She nods again. She’s focused now. She doesn’t try to force anything out of him. She just waits.

“He’ll contact you.”

“What do you mean?”

“When it’s time he’ll tell you where to meet for the exchange.”

“But when will that be?”

He takes another sip of his drink.

“Wait, you don’t know? How long am I supposed to wait for this guy?”

Her body is fully facing him but he doesn’t look at her.

“I booked you a hotel room for a week.”

“A week? You didn’t tell me it was going to be this long. I have things to take care of here.”

He looks at her now. 

“It’s the job.”

His eyes are defiant. He wants to see if she’ll back out. 

She won't. She straightens her back. Whatever he thinks she’s not capable of, she is. If that’s his way of provoking her, okay. After all, he said if she did this he wouldn’t put a bullet in her head. Fair enough.

“Okay.”

She downs her drink.

“See you in a week then." She gets up and sets her empty drink on the bar. "Thanks for the drink.” Then she turns away and walks towards the exit. 

Maybe not seeing his face or hearing from him for a whole week won’t be so bad after all.

Rio watches her leave. _She thinks she’s so damn smart._

Then he downs his drink as well.

* * *

Beth doesn’t know what’s more difficult: having to justify herself to Dean, yet again, or having to say goodbye to her children. She’s rarely away from them for this long. Kenny had had field trips of course but it was only for a few days and her three other little monsters would come home to her every day. So it’s the first time that she’ll be away from all of them at the same time. It’s also the first time Dean will have to take care of all his children for a whole week, but she trusts he’ll be able to handle it _for a week_. 

It pains her to be away from her kids but there’s something else there: guilt. She feels guilty because even though she doesn’t want to be away from them she thinks after all this time a week alone will do her some good. A week where she doesn’t have to worry about lunches, homework, soccer practice, and cheating husbands. It may be unconventional but turns out a week of illegal activities out of state might just be Beth Boland’s treat yourself week. 

Although the relaxing part might not come right away. 

Getting off the plane she starts to realize what she is really doing, what she is here for, and maybe her heart starts beating a little bit faster than usual and her grip on her suitcase is tighter than it needs to be. She remembers Ruby being afraid for her safety, telling her she shouldn’t do it. “I don’t have a choice” she had responded. “There’s always a choice” Annie has said, echoing words Beth once knew to be true. 

But not in this case, not right now. And if there is a choice, this is the right one. There is no reason for him to send her on a death quest. If he wanted her dead he would do it himself. She’s been made aware of that quite a few times: how much he wants to kill her. 

She’s not naive though, she’s aware of the danger this mission entails, but she positively thinks she can get through it without a scratch. It’s what she does best: get herself out of messy situations. No reason for this to be different. Then she may remember Annie muttering something about her doing anything and everything Rio asked of her, but she chose to ignore it.

She’s now inside the airport and she looks around her. _What am I supposed to do now?_ Rio gave her no more information than he did in the bar of course. He said that the package would be in the airport but where? Because airports are fucking big. 

That said, she has no plan of texting him. She’s not about to beg him for information. She guesses he did it on purpose, to test her… or just to annoy her. He thinks he can corner her, put her in a situation she can’t handle. But he’s wrong. She can. And she will.

She’s about to go sit when her phone vibrates. _Finally._ She thinks it’s Rio telling her where she should go from there but it’s not. It’s from an unknown number. 

_“Women’s bathroom terminal 1 exit 4”_

Her heart beats in her ears. Her mission is starting. And the women's bathroom seems to be the first step. 

She hopes it’s enough information for her to find the package. She doesn’t even know what she’s looking for. She’d thought someone would have been waiting for her. They would have given her whatever they needed to give her and then walked her through the rest of the mission. She thought if Rio didn’t then surely someone else would. But apparently it wasn’t how this was going to play out. 

Fortunately, she finds the bathroom. At least she thinks she does. Now she has to look inside every stall and hope she’ll find “it”. The problem is she can’t look suspicious, so she can’t just enter each stall one after the other and have the rest of the women in the queue questioning her behavior. So she actually has to pretend to go to the bathroom, wait 5 or 10 minutes then pretend she needs to go again and enter another stall. She finally finds it in the _last_ stall to check. _Obviously_. 

She’s not even sure that this is the right thing but she couldn’t find anything else in the other stalls so it has to be it. She wouldn’t have noticed it if she wasn’t looking for it. It just looks like a forgotten plastic bag. It’s small, it can’t be money inside. Rio wouldn’t make her go this far for such a small amount of money. _Or would he?_

She wants to look at what’s inside of it but she doesn’t know what she’ll find inside and she’s not sure it is really safe to open in a public restroom. She decides to take it with her and exit the bathroom as if she already had it before coming in.

* * *

“What?”

“Hugo, what do I tell him?”

Confusion still written on Rio’s face, Mick elaborates “About the deal, what do I tell him?”

Rio comes back to his senses.

“Tell him we won’t do business together unless he agrees to a 30% cut.”

Mick nods and leaves.

He can’t focus. Rio thought by sending Elizabeth away he was doing himself a favor. But the truth is he can’t focus. Having her away actually makes him worried, not for her safety, but for his business. He's worried she'll do something stupid like she always does. At least when she's here he can monitor her every move.

Why isn’t she texting him? She should be at the airport by now. She should even have found the package. Is she toying with him? With his business? Or is she just completely lost and incompetent? Unfortunately, he doesn’t think the latter can ever be true. She must be doing this on purpose. To get on his nerves. Except that’s not the fucking time right now. He was supposedly dead for too long and he had to get his house back in order, because of her. Get back on track, get his clients back, pay his debts. 

There was a fucking lot on his plate. He didn’t have time for Elizabeth’s bitch ass drama. She _will_ follow his orders. She _will_ report to him. Like any other of his employees. She was not special. Maybe she was at some point, or she could have been. But they are not partners anymore, and there is no way in hell he’s trusting her again with 50% of his business. She had to understand that.

He doesn’t have time to check her whereabouts right now. She’d better call before he has to.

* * *

Amongst the few information Rio had given her, there was the address of her hotel. She guesses she’ll take a cab there and he’ll pay for it. After all, he’s her boss and he sent her a mission. If she needs to take a cab she will. And just like her plane ticket and her hotel room, he’ll just have to pay for it.

She arrives at the hotel and it looks correct. The lobby doesn’t look too expensive but it doesn’t look too cheap either. To be honest, if it looked worse she would have taken it personally.

She walks up to reception and feels a sudden rush of anxiety. _What is she supposed to say? Should she give her real name?_

She takes a breath. If she had to give a different name he would have told her. And if he didn’t, she would be glad to catch him in a mistake. 

She gives her name to the receptionist and is given a key.

“Of course Ms. Boland, we’d been waiting for you.” 

The receptionist must be giving the same beaming smile to everybody but somehow she can’t help thinking this one is personal. 

For sure Beth wouldn’t be so suspicious if mister gang boss had given her any semblance of information. 

It has to be funny for him to leave her in the dark. Although he should know damn well by now where he could end up with this sort of behavior. But it seems he likes to test her limits. _Test away._

Her room is correct as well. Nothing too fancy but she’ll be comfortable enough for the week.

She leaves her suitcase at the entrance, drops off her handbag, and lets herself fall on the bed.

She’s actually exhausted by the trip and the mind game this mission puts her into. Isn’t it funny - _well funny might not be the word_ \- that being away from him doesn’t stop this mind game from eating her up? It might be even worse. She’s in Salt Lake City for God knows why, for God knows how long and she can’t even ask questions.

What is she supposed to do now? Wait? How will this person contact her? And most importantly when? Is she supposed to stay in her room all week waiting for a call? Now that would just be torture, she’s not about to do that. For nobody. 

She gives up thinking about it for a minute and it’s all she needs to fall asleep, right there, legs hanging off the bed. 

* * *

She wakes up early in the morning, sun pouring into the room through the decorative curtains, still dressed. Her shoulders and neck ache a little from sleeping in uncomfortable clothes and no pillow under her head. 

Once she regained conscience of where she was and what she was doing she gets up with effort and heads for the bathroom to finally take off her clothes, take a shower, and change.

After her shower, she walks back into the room, towel around her body, hair dripping on her shoulders. She dries them with another towel when she spots the package on the floor at the foot of the bed. 

That’s right.

She hadn’t looked at what it was.

She was a little bit curious and to be honest she thought it was only fair she knew what her mission was all about.

She picks it up and sits on the edge of the bed. She settles her hair towel on her shoulders so that what’s left of water on her hair drips on it and not on the package.

It feels like a small box inside a plastic bag. When she opens the bag there is indeed a small gray box made out of some metal.

She flips it over to try and see from where it can be opened. But it seems she needs a key. 

_Of course._

She hesitates, really wanting to know what’s inside but also not wanting to screw up and end up, well, _dead._ Curiosity taking over she gives in and shakes the box. Maybe she can figure out what it is from the sound it will make against the metal. But it makes no sound.

 _Is this box empty?_ Did he send her on a quest for an empty box just to get back at her?

She tells herself it wouldn’t surprise her, but at the same time she doesn’t believe it to be true.

She gives up, puts the box back in its bag, and looks for clothes to put on her back.

There is no reason for her to get ready, hair and makeup, but it’s kind of an automatic reflex for her and being in a hotel room makes her feel like she’s preparing for something.

Once she’s satisfied with the way she looks she sits on the bed.

Her satisfaction quickly dies.

_Now what?_

Then she remembers that’s what had her mind racing before falling asleep last night.

She doesn’t know what she should do, or not do.

She looks at the time on her phone.

9 a.m.

And still no text from Rio. 

She could get room service from the hotel, she hadn’t had anything to eat since she arrived.

She stares at her phone when she recalls: they sent her a text. So they had her number. So they could join her anytime. No need for her to stay trapped in this hotel room all day.

Breakfast out in the sun it is then.

* * *

It's been 24 hours and Rio still hasn't heard from Beth. He's sure she's fine but he'd like to know how his business is going. He doesn't even know if she's at the hotel yet. With his package. _Is the package safe?_

He walks around in his apartment, agitated.

He doesn’t think his contact has reached her yet but he needs an update on the situation.

He needs to know how she is handling it so far. The silence is making him spiral, he keeps thinking she's struggling with something, that something went wrong. She's most probably fine, but maybe something slowed her in her mission.

He usually likes to see her struggle. Actually, he likes to provoke it, push her to make a mistake, and give himself a chance to finally get rid of her. But not here. Not now. Besides, there’s no fun in her losing her footing if he can’t see it.

He stops at his dining table and settles his palms wide open on it, arms straight, he tries to stretch out the tension in his shoulder. He exhales, looks at his palms and is reminded of that meeting early on in their relationship when she had tried to sell him fucking figurines to pay him back.

She knew how to run her mouth. It’s what got him interested in the first place. And it’s now the reason she gets on his fucking nerves all the time. 

The way she can talk bullshit and fuck all your plans. It had pushed him to the edge _many_ times. He’s sure his partners won’t have the same patience. He smirks, imagining how she would try to get out of _this one_.

His smirk morphs into a hard line when he realizes it wouldn't be an ideal situation for him. It would cost him his deal and probably his business partner. His hands close into fists, tension running back in his spine.

If someone had to kill her, it was him. No one else. The thought of someone else doing it made him _sick_.

He grunts, annoyed that he has to do this. But maybe he should give her a call to know how she is. If she’s pissed she’ll mess up.

He tries her phone. One ring, two rings. “Hi, this is Beth Boland I am not av-”. He hangs up. _Did she just decline the call?_ Not the best decision she’s ever made.

He tries calling her room but, again, no answer. Maybe she hasn’t even arrived yet. He calls reception.

“Radisson Hotel Salt Lake City Airport, how can I help you?”

“Hey, Mr. Kowalski here.”

“Oh hello, Mr. Kowalski, what can I do for you?”

“I would like to know if Elizabeth Boland checked in yesterday.”

“Yes, sir, she arrived at 5 p.m.”

_Huh._

“And where is she now?”

“She stepped out this morning at around 9:15.”

“Thank you very much.”

“Anything else?”

“No thank you, have a good day.”

“Thank you Mr. Kowalski, you too.”

“Oh, one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t tell her I called.”

“Of course, Mr. Kowalski.”

So she’s out. It looks like she’s not under that much pressure. She might even be enjoying herself. He’s sure she gets off on purposely ignoring him. She now knows he’s trying to reach out. Must be fucking funny, mustn’t it? She just waits. We’ll see who comes out on top.

* * *

She hadn’t meant to decline the call but phones can be so slippery sometimes. She hadn’t even seen who it was until she saw the rejected call on her phone. 

First, she wondered why he would call, then she remembered they hadn’t given each other any news since she arrived. And _then_ she thought of how dismissing and patronizing he had been the last time they had talked and she decided she wouldn’t call back.

After some time walking around the neighborhood, Beth’s legs are sore so she decides to head back to the hotel.

Maybe Rio thought he was punishing her by sending her alone but the joke’s on him: Beth doesn’t need anyone to entertain herself a whole day. She doesn’t mind wandering in stores, trying to picture if this copper lamp would go well in her bathroom, get advice from sales assistants, chat with storekeepers… At noon she actually enjoyed a nice lunch at a restaurant -still on Rio’s tab. 

Back at the hotel she asks the receptionist if she got any messages, she guesses Rio must be pissed she ignored his call. Knowing him, he won't let it go that easily, he's probably tracking her every move. She wouldn't be surprised if her phone was bugged or something.

The fault is part hers: she didn't call after retrieving the package so he's probably worried about that. He probably wonders how she's doing. Not her personally, he doesn't care about that, but how she is doing on her mission. _That_ he cares about: money, business. 

So it's a bit of a surprise when the receptionist tells her she didn't receive any messages. She thought she would have got some kind of coded warning. But nothing. 

Well, he doesn’t seem too concerned with getting in touch after all. Good. She doesn't need to be checked on and she doesn't want to hear him bitch. 

Once in her room, she calls Dean, hoping to talk to her kids before he jumps on her with questions and judgmental comments. 

She actually has the chance to talk with the girls and Danny -apparently, Kenny had found his video game more interesting than his mother, which makes her wonder when she’d started losing her little boy to teenagehood... 

Dean had been audibly annoyed but he hadn’t made as much trouble as she thought he would. Although she has no doubt once he’s warmed up -she hopes in more than a few days- he’ll lash out on her as if it would make any difference in her involvement in this.

She hangs up the phone and sighs. First day over. 

She looks at the time.

5 p.m.

_Huh._

It wasn’t as late as she thought it was. 

Well, what is it that they say? It must be 5 p.m. somewhere? Well, the answer was _yes,_ it is. In Utah. So to the hotel bar, she goes.

* * *

She doesn’t wake up as early as she did the day before. She’s hungover, her fingers are sticky with alcohol and her armpits stink. Well, actually, her _whole body_ stinks, she’s in desperate need of a shower. 

As she gets up, she rubs her eyes back to consciousness. She can barely remember anything from her night, she doesn’t even know how she got to her bed. She remembers going downstairs to the bar, ordering one bourbon, finding the atmosphere pleasant, the music relaxing and the barman polite, then ordering another bourbon. 

A glimpse of the night comes back to her as she enters the bathroom. There was a man sitting next to her. She pictures a white man, fair hair, thirties, beaming smile. He had made her laugh. Maybe he walked her back to her room -because given how bad her head hurts right now she doesn’t think she could have done it alone-. 

She panics.

 _Is there a man in her bed?_ She would have noticed him, wouldn’t she have? She runs back to the room, then walks by the bed on her tiptoes.

No one.

She exhales loudly. Too hungover to be aware of herself she has to tap all over her body to know she’s fully dressed. No one is in her bed and nothing happened. That’s a relief. 

Not that she would feel any kind of guilt for sleeping with a stranger. It just wasn’t her plan and she’s not the kind of person to get drunk and sleep with the guy at the bar.

A flashing light catches her eyes on the other side of the bed. It's her phone indicating a new message received. Suddenly she worries, did Rio call her last night? Did she miss it? Or did they have a conversation she doesn't remember? She doesn't know which one would be worse. 

If she missed another one of his calls he's going to think she does it on purpose, and it's not going to end well for her. And if they had a conversation she doesn't remember, he might have given her information she desperately needs and there's no way she's calling him and admitting she was too drunk to remember anything afterwards. 

She walks to her phone, arteries shooting blood in her chest. She sits on her bed and takes a breath before unlocking her phone. 

She breathes out. 

It's just a text from Annie, asking for what type of toothpaste is best. She'll answer later. 

So, no news from Rio yet. Good. The longer the better. 

Right now, she needs a shower. 

* * *

He’s given her 48 hours now. That’s more than fucking enough. She’s not on vacation. She’s on a business trip. And she needs to answer his calls, report to him, her _boss_. 

His blood is boiling thinking about her insubordination, but he knows if he wants anything out of her he’s going to have to play it smooth. He takes a breath before calling her phone.

She answers at the first ring. _Huh_. Maybe she gets it now.

“Hey,” 

Her voice sounds a little bit hoarse and tired, he can hear voices in the background like the TV is on.

“Hey,” 

His is low, relaxed but controlled.

“Why are you calling?” she asks. She wants to sound detached but Rio knows her too much not to distinct impatience there too.

“How is it going?” he asks back warmly.

There’s a silence and he knows she's weighing on her answer. She's wondering if he's sincere, if she should try his tone or another one.

She clicks her tongue before she answers, “Hum, good. I don’t know. How is this supposed to go?”

She went for defensive. He’s already being fucking nice, can’t she meet him halfway? Although maybe her fake ass PTA mom’s warm voice might be her trying not to lose it. 

Suddenly he’d rather she did lose it. 

“Did you get the package?”

If he gets to the facts maybe she will too.

“I did.”

“Good.”

Another silence and she takes a purposefully loud breath as she adds, “It’s right beside me, it’s doing fine you don’t have to check in on it, it doesn’t miss you.”

He smirks.

“I know. I’m checking on _you_.”

He hears a soft chuckle form her.

“Right, you-”

Someone knocks on her door.

“Wait a second.”

Now that he knows his package is safe and ready to be delivered he could just hang up, but he’s doesn't. First, he's curious who could be at her door, how she could have visits when she's supposed to be working. Then when he thinks about it, he's curious why her voice sounded gruff, and he has a feeling the two things are connected.

 _“Hello,”_ her voice sounds hesitant, she doesn’t know the person at her door.

 _“Hi,”_ a man just spoke the most awkward “hi” Rio has ever heard.

 _“You don’t- you don’t remember me.”_ the guy chuckles.

_“I-”_

_“It’s fine, I don’t think I’m that memorable either after that many drinks.”_

_Huh_. 

Something doesn’t sit right with Rio.

_“I just hoped I could run into you to give you back your room card but you didn’t get out all day and I thought maybe it was my fault because I had it.”_

_“Oh… my god. Yes, no, I do remember you, I’m sorry. Hum, why do you have my card?”_

She uses a high, innocent voice and can't stand it. He hates this voice, it makes her sound fucking helpless, Rio knows she ain't this person. 

_“I, hum, walked you back to your room but you couldn’t open the door so I opened it for you,”_

Rio snickers, now that’s an Elizabeth he’d like to see.

_“I helped you to your bed and then I left with your key in my hand. Guess I was pretty drunk too.”_

Right. Rio doesn’t buy that. He sounds like a perfect asshole who took the key to a woman’s room hoping to fuck her later.

_“Oh, hum, it’s alright. Don’t worry about it. Thank you for, hum, walking me to my room.”_

They both laugh awkwardly but the guy doesn’t leave. 

_“Listen, do you- are you doing anything? Do you wanna go out for dinner?”_

There it is. This guy just wants to dip it, Rio sneers ignoring what’s burning his insides.

_“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m married.”_

Classic Elizabeth. Never stopped her before.

_“I see, sorry. Hum, goodbye then.”_

_“Thanks again, enjoy your night.”_

She finally closes the door. Rio has heard enough of this fucking loser.

She sits back heavily on the mattress and picks up the phone.

“Sorry, what was I saying?”

“No, let’s forget about that, I wanna know more about mister dickhead there.”

She huffs as she sits correctly on the bed.

“It’s none of your business.”

And that’s all it took to make her uncomfortable apparently. He usually loves watching her lose her footing under his scrutiny, under his questions. He would normally have the pleasure of observing that heat pinken her chest, making her freckles that much more visible, and her throat bumping up and down. 

But that's not the situation here. If she's uncomfortable it's because she knows she's doing something she shouldn't be doing. And if she wants to escape the conversation, he won't let her. 

“I think it kind of is when it’s happening on a business trip and I’m your boss.”

The matter is annoying him more than he would have thought and he finds his throat is tightening now.

“It has nothing to do with my mission and I’ve done everything you’ve asked so you can skip the inquisition.”

Rio thinks about yesterday when he called and she had the audacity to reject his call, just for the hotel reception to tell him she was enjoying a nice day outside.

“You sure?” he sounds more dangerous.

“What?” she should be but she doesn’t sound impressed.

“You sure you did everything I asked?”

Beth takes a second to reply. 

“Look I got your package, your package is fine. I’ve been waiting here for two days now not knowing what the fuck I’m supposed to be waiting for because you won’t tell me. So yeah, I think I’m good with your orders. I’d love to have more information but I’m quite certain you won’t tell me shit.”

“Be careful Elizabeth,” he warns her. 

She’s playing a dangerous game here. He’s not as patient as he used to be. “Don’t say something you could regret later. You can’t hide from me, remember?”

She breathes out, slightly panting, and then tries again with more control over her emotions, “Listen, you wanted to know how you’re business was going? I’m telling you: it’s fine. Now, do you have anything else you’d like to add?”

Rio takes a sharp breath and licks his teeth. 

“Talk to you in a couple a’ days. Don’t do anything stupid.”

And he hangs up.

He was hoping to call her, get the information he needs then put this behind him. She’s not the only business he has going on. Hell, she’s not even in the top 10 things he has to worry about. Yet she’s the one using up all his energy. 

Rio is a pretty collected and organized guy, but Elizabeth is pretty fucking good at riling him up and getting him unfocused. She’s a fucking curse.

* * *

After the heated conversation, Beth is furious. She has never met anyone with that much audacity.

First she's forced to leave her home for a whole week at the last minute. She's thrown in a mission across the country, alone, in a city she doesn't know. She follows his instructions, retrieves a package for him she can't even open. He doesn't tell her anything, doesn't call, and _then_ when she gets a drink _from the hotel bar_ , he, what, _scolds_ her? What is she supposed to do? Stay in her crappy hotel room for a whole week without moving a finger? That's clearly not happening.

Who does he think he is? If she wants to go out she will and if she wants to get a drink she most definitely will. 

She stays in this state pretty much for the rest of her stay. It comes and goes, but she's pretty much pissed for a few more days after that. And every day when she looks at her phone, she dares him to call. And he better not call. She's not having it. 

Two days after their fight is the day he is supposed to call. _"Talk to you in a couple a' days" Beth repeats in his voice, grimacing in the mirror._ So she can't go out whenever she wants _and_ she has to follow his call schedule? That's a little bit much doesn't he think? 

She finds herself very fidgety that day. Lighting her phone on and off all day. 

Lighting it on. Looking at the time. Lighting it off. Lighting it on. Unlocking it. Lighting it off. 

At some point, she puts it away to stop herself. She still glances at it. 

_He better not call._

* * *

Rio rewinds the conversation in his head over and over again, what she said she’d been doing, what he knows she was really doing. She had been fucking disrespectful. 

As he collapses on his couch he starts wondering if maybe this was all a mistake. He had given her chances after chances, and maybe the money she was making for him wasn’t enough. 

He knows they could do good work, he’d got a glimpse of it in the past, but that is if she could accept she’s not in charge. And that is not Elizabeth’s forte. 

Rio knows if he wants her to obey he’ll have to watch her. He can’t send her away, that’s not working. 

He decides that when she comes back, things will be different. He’ll be here, watching her. Until she makes a mistake. 

Rio’s brain is restless, his legs are twitching and he can’t focus on the TV. Now that he knows what he has to do with her he can’t wait to tell her and see the look on her face when he tells her she’s trapped.

He looks over at his phone on the other cushion of his couch, makes a move to take it, then stops. It won’t end well if he calls her. Besides he wants to see it in her eyes: the despair. 

He takes his phone, sits back and looks at the date on it. _Four more days_ until he sees her back in Detroit. He can be patient.

And so every day from that point he fidgets every time he thinks about her. He looks at his phone, wondering if she’s going to call him. Do the right thing and report to him. But she never does and it only increases his impatience to see her and tear her down.

Two days after their call, he knows he’s supposed to call her, at least he said he would. But she also said she was going to redeem herself, yet she’s been nothing but a pain in his ass so far so he guesses words don’t mean too much to her, and he has better things to do.

Day three: no call. But at 2 a.m he receives a text from his contact over there saying everything is in order.

So she _did_ deliver his package. But she didn’t call. Good. That would only make their reunion even better.

* * *

Day four is the day of her flight back. He bought the ticket himself, he knows she should be at home at around 3 p.m.

It’s 2:00 when he takes his car keys and heads out. He wants to be there before she is. He wants to be waiting for her, give her no chance to escape.

When he starts the engine the radio starts playing. 

Rio rarely listens to the radio, even less in his car. He likes the quiet of a lonely ride. But he’s not the only one using his car, Mick is as well and he _likes_ listening to music, all the time. 

As much as Rio says he hates it, Mick’s music has grown on him so he lets it play. After all, he’s about to have a rather painful discussion with Elizabeth, so it’s probably best he relaxes with some guitar. 

Rio is halfway there, legs shaking with anticipation, fingers hitting the rhythm of the music too hard on the steering wheel when the music stops mid-song for flash news.

Too absorbed by his soon encounter with Elizabeth, Rio can’t really hear what this is about, and he doesn’t really care. He has to be ready. He has to know what to say. How to say it. Be cold and collected. It’s only when he hears “Lake Michigan” that he comprehends he heard “plane crash” right before. He frowns and turns up the volume of the radio, legs not longer shaking and hands firmly gripping the steering wheel.

“The plane was going to land at Detroit Metropolitan Wayne County Airport, we don’t know yet what’s caused the plane to crash but roads are closed-”

As information is piling up, Rio’s breathing gets louder.

 _It could be any flights._ Rio is sure there are a lot of flights that should be landing at the same airport and at the same time as Elizabeth’s.

The journalist’s voice on the radio catches Rio’s attention.

“We now know the flight was coming from Utah, Salt Lake City, the number of the flight was A-”

Blood pulses through Rio’s brain, making him dizzier with every blow. 

He speeds up to the next red light and stops in front of it so abruptly that he almost crashes his head in his windshield. He gets his phone out of his pocket and dials Elizabeth’s number.

_Pick up, pick up, pick up._

“Hi, this is Beth Boland I am not-”

 _Fuck._

He doesn’t know why but he continues his way to her house, legs out straight, tensed, foot flat on the accelerator pedal.

Rio’s thoughts are a chaotic mess and he speeds pass stops signs and crossroads. He’s so wrapped up in them he makes the reckless decision of calling her hotel, thinking _maybe_ she's still there, _maybe_ she missed her flight, and doesn’t see the few cars that almost drive into him.

If she had called, if they had kept in touch the whole time, if she had reported to him like she was supposed to, if she were more disciplined, then he would know how things were going, he would know where she was in her mission, he would be in control, he wouldn't be-

“Radisson Hotel Salt Lake City Airport, how can I help you?”

“Hi, Mr. Kowalski here,”

“Hello, Mr. Kowalski what can I-”

“Is Elizabeth Boland still in?”

He’s at her house now. There is no reason for him to rush over there -because anyway she shouldn’t be here yet even if her flight went fine- but for some reason, he has to.

“No, sir she checked out.”

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

He’s right in her alley when the receptionist adds, “Two days ago, although she said you would still pay for the whole week, do you want me to organize a refund for those nights?”

Rio stops abruptly, eyes darting at the ground, trying to understand. 

“What” He whispers trying to steady his breathing, suddenly feeling the sweat on his back cooling him.

“Would you like me to organize a refund for the nights she didn’t use?”

Rio looks up at her house, and notices lights are on. It could be someone else, it could be her husband, but right now Rio doesn't care. He _has_ to see. 

“Mr. Kowal-”

He hangs up. 

Nostrils flared and blowing hot air, his hands form fists and his breathing steadies in a dangerous rhythm.

He walks up to her door in long and heavy strides.

He knocks on her door, hammering so hard the door trembles under his fist, desperate to see her behind it.

Finally, someone opens the door.

He couldn’t describe the feelings that rushed through his body when he saw her opening the door but they made him lose consciousness for a second. 

It's like a weight has been lifted off his chest and he can breathe again, she was standing in front of him, alive. And at the same time his eyes see red because she wasn't supposed to be here, because she had lied to him, played him, again.

His body wants to express relief, maybe even reach out to her, make sure she's real, but his brain is furious at her for a reason he chooses to ignore. Going against all of his instincts, he sets his lips in a hard line to perfect the indifferent look he knows he can pull off.

* * *

Beth was lying on her couch in sweatpants, watching TV with a glass of wine, when a loud banging on her door startles her from her comfortable afternoon. 

She has no idea who could be at her door and even less who would be hammering it like that. 

She gets up slowly, wiping her hands on her sides, and swallows. The banging sounds so dangerous, for a second she hesitates between going to the door or simply calling the cops.

But Beth knows whatever this is she better not call the cops. She can’t. Ever.

So she slowly walks up to her door, her anxiety getting stronger with each hit on her door.

When she’s in front of it, the banging stops. She leans forward to look through the peephole and when she recognizes Rio’s face she breathes out her tension. 

She looks down at herself. She’s not what you would call presentable but Rio seems quite impatient at the moment, so this will do. She straightens her shirt and her back, trying to go for confident and blameless.

She opens the door.

Her shoulders fall when she sees the look on his face. 

She knows she shouldn’t be home right now, so it might come as a shock to him that she is but he doesn’t look shocked. It’s something else, something almost scary. He looks her up and down but not as he used to. Not like he’s trying to outline her curves under her sweatpants, more like he’s- seen a ghost. 

He looks her over for a few seconds, his eyes dart back and forth while Beth waits for him to catch his breath. Then something flashes through his face and he locks his jaws like he's trying to repress something inside of him. 

Beth has rarely ever seen any emotions on Rio, but him showing up at her house without a warning, and trying to hide the way he’d been panting, for some reason, looks just as threatening as some other sides she'd seen of him so she gets defensive, “What are you doing here?” she starts before he has a chance to throw her off balance.

He doesn’t answer and the more he tries to hide his emotions the more Beth feels awkward and impatient. 

She doesn't know if his behavior has something to do with her or not but she has a feeling it's going to blow up in her face anyway.

“Would you like to come in?” She opens the door wider and gestures her hand towards her kitchen, trying to ease him.

They eye each other for a second then Rio walks by her to her kitchen island.

She closes the door behind him and walks to the back of her couch to keep some distance between them.

He seems to be regaining control of his emotions, his face neutral but his breathing heavy, as he starts walking slowly around her island. He looks dangerous, but not as Beth has ever seen him, she doesn't know who his anger is aiming at. He glides his hand over her dishes like he's could break each item one after the other.

She leans on the back of her couch and crosses her arms, waiting for him to engage, still unsure of what this visit is.

He stops behind the island, body facing her but eyes looking down on the glass he’s dangerously playing with. He takes a big breath before asking firmly, “When did you come back?”

“Two days ago.” 

Tension builds in Rio’s jaw and Beth shakes her bangs out of her face. 

“How?” 

Beth frowns.

“Changed my ticket.”

Rio takes another breath and Beth can feel the way her heart speeds up with every question he asks.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The rumbling in his voice gets louder and more threatening. 

It shouldn’t be Beth’s reaction but when Rio gets threatening, she gets reckless.

“I didn’t think it mattered. Thought we’d meet the same day anyway.” She places her hands on top of the couch behind her. The more relaxed she looks, the more in control she is of the conversation. She learned that from someone.

He slams the glass he had in his hand on the island, making her jump.

“Well, you should have, Elizabeth.” He rounds the island as he orders her, “When you’re on a mission for _me_ , you report to _me_ , you _tell me_ which flight you take, you-”

It’s enough scolding for Beth to bear. She straightens her back and walks towards him, pointing a finger at him, overlapping his speech.

“ _You_ were supposed to call me, remember? And you didn’t.” Her breathing is now louder than his. No matter how many times they fight, he’s still better at keeping his cool than she is. “So get your facts straight before blaming me.” She takes a breath before continuing. “I did everything you asked so leave it the fuck alone.”

He's about to retort but then Beth rushes over to the island to take away her dishes from his hands and put it in the sink before he has a chance to break it, and instead of speaking he draws in a breath when she yanks the glass out of his hands.

When she turns around he’s fully rounded the island and is leaning on the side opposite of her. She can see his shoulders rise and fall at every deep breath he takes and can hear him crack his knuckles nervously.

Something is wrong. Why did he come here today? Why did he knock on her door? Why didn’t he just break-in as he usually does?

“How’d you know I was home?” She asks calmly.

He turns his head around, looks her up and down, then turns his head again.

“I didn’t.”

Beth’s eyes dart, trying to understand what went through his mind when he came to her door.

She walks around to her fridge, that way she can see the expressions going through his face. 

It’s weird seeing him like this. He looks… painfully distressed.

When he catches her in the corner of his eye he looks up at her and it’s like he forces himself to look her way. Like he’s trying to come off as collected but he can’t look at her in the eyes.

Maybe he notices the concern in her eyes, maybe he just wants to know how his business went. Anyway, he changes the subject.

“So the meeting went good?”

She nods lightly.

“Yeah, it did.”

He looks down, purses his lips and nods too, and she knows he thinks _“Good”_.

He looks up at her again.

“He gave you the code in exchange?”

Her eyes dart over his face, trying, once again, to understand what he's thinking.

“He did.”

He looks away and nods again.

Angry tension now gone, they stay in silence. Awkwardness creeps up Beth’s back as she waits for Rio to either leave or tell her what he’s doing here in the first place.

Rio finally steps away from the island and starts walking slowly towards the door. Beth takes a deep breath and takes his place there, arms crossed across her chest.

He stops in the middle of the room and looks around curiously, like he’s realizing something. 

Beth leans her head on the side, questioning.

“Kids at school?”

“Yeah.” She uncrosses her arms.

He nods, pursing his lips.

“Husband?”

“At work.” Her voice is slightly higher with unease.

Her embarrassment doesn't get easier as Rio watches her now. He looks at her, face open, almost like he's trying to capture the moment, like he wants to remember the lines of her face right in this moment. It's too much for Beth and she looks down but she can still feel his gaze hot on her before he remembers himself and looks away too.

In the heat of their argument, Beth had forgotten the TV was still on. She’s not sure whether or not the sound of it makes the silence between more or less awkward, but it is a nice distraction from it. 

He finally moves again to leave when flash news catches both their attention. Beth wouldn’t have cared about it if it weren’t for Rio stopping in movement and clenching his jaw. She frowns and turns her head to the TV. 

There had been a plane crash in Lake Michigan. She frowns. _Could it be?_ Her heart beats faster as information piles up. 

She finally gets the confirmation she was afraid of: it was the plane she was supposed to have taken. 

She looks back at Rio whose jaw is still clenched, whose jugular is pumping so much blood it looks like it's about to explode and whose fists are now clenched so hard she’s sure his nails are digging in his skin. 

He won’t look at her and her thoughts are going faster than she can understand them. Her eyes go from the TV to him to the TV to him. Finally, one thought stands out. 

He didn’t know she’d changed her flight. _Did he think she was-?_ She turns her head inch by inch towards him, feeling like the air has been sucked out of the room.

He finally looks up, and they stare at each other, both their chest rising with each breath.

The look he gives her is not one of denial. He’s just intensely holding her gaze, silently confirming what she figured out, and it makes her lose every sense of being. She slowly uncrosses her arms, dumbstruck.

How could this happen? She hates him and she’s supposed to be mad at him. And she knows he hates her and would love the chance to see her dead. Yet, here they are, speechless. Silently, trying to fathom the fact he lost his mind thinking she was dead, his eyes burning a hole in hers.

Beth doesn’t know when that lump had started to form in her throat, she doesn’t know either when she'd started to feel her insides slowly burn. And she certainly doesn’t how they could, at the exact same time, look each other up and down. 

It’s the fastest look, but when their eyes lock on each other again Beth swallows that lump and Rio rushes to her in the blink of an eye.

He crashes into her, placing one hand on the counter and the other wrapping her close to him, sighing against her mouth. She only had time to take a breath and place her hands in front of her to prevent the shock before he took her and held her so tight she had no choice but to melt into his bruising kiss. 

Her palms on his chest, she feels his heart hammering and it makes her moan.

After everything that had happened, she thought she hated him more than she had ever wanted him, but she was wrong. Because she had never wanted him more than right here, right now. 

And he should be mad at her too, he shouldn’t want her, yet the thought of her dying had him gripping her waist and digging his nails into her flesh from her waist to her back. 

As he wraps himself around her, Beth snakes her hands to his nape to hold him there tightly while she kisses him vigorously, tasting him with her tongue, capturing his lips with her teeth. And he quickly joins her in her race, taking control over her lips, making her breathless into his mouth.

Their bodies are helplessly grinding against each other, Rio’s left leg coming between Beth’s bent trembling knees. 

Beth’s hands snake down back to his chest, down to his hips and round to the small of his back. She lifts his shirt wanting more skin from him, wanting to feel him. She skims the skin of his back up and scratches it on her way down. Maybe she scratches to hard, maybe he just likes it but she gets a low groan from him, and she feels her crotch getting wetter by the second. 

Suddenly, he grabs her ass and squeezes furiously. That's also when his lips leave hers to start kissing under her ear and nibbling the side of her neck, leaving her panting into his ear. 

When her hands reach the waistband of his pants she fingers it and circles her fingers around his waist to the front of his pants, wanting to unbutton it, feel him. But before she has a chance to palm him, he slides his hands under her ass and hops her on the counter, making her gasp.

They look at each other for a second, pupils blown with need, panting heavily before Rio picks up his kisses at her neck. Beth leans into them, angles her neck for him, sliding her fingers through his cropped hair with one hand and stroking his strong arm resting on the island with the other.

He starts kissing her neck lower and lower, down her neck and shoulder until he can’t go any further because the fabric of her tee-shirt is blocking his hungry mouth.

The hair on Beth’s right arm raises when she feels Rio’s hand skim up from her wrist to her shoulder. He glides his fingers under her sleeve and hooks them onto her bra strap and slowly pulls it down so he can continue kissing her shoulder in all the ways he wants. 

Her bra strap falls off her shoulder and she shimmies her elbow to help Rio get it off her arm.

After he’s made sure, not one single part of her right side has been denied wet kisses, he does the same thing on the other side.

Once both straps are off, Beth reaches behind her to unclasp her bra. Her fingers are sweaty and trembling and it takes more time than she would like. 

While she struggles with it, Rio slides his hand under her shirt in the front, first palming and pressing his fingers in her waist, then coming up to pull down her finally unclasped bra. He tosses it to the ground then quickly comes back to her breasts. Palming them. Gripping them. 

Beth’s head falls back and Rio has to use one arm to hold her tight him while he presses kisses on her sternum over her shirt. He loosens his grip as he presses his kisses lower and lower on her body. From the whole in her throat, to her sternum, to her breasts. He places wet open-mouthed kisses on each of her nipples over her shirt, leaving traces of saliva on the fabric. 

Beth’s elbows are leaning back on the counter as she lets herself drift to the pleasure of his kisses; her legs hooked behind his to make sure she keeps him close to her, pressing into her crotch.

His hands lower to the small of her back and he abruptly pulls her impossibly close to him. With one arm he lifts her and with the other he yanks both her pants and panties down. 

Her sweatpants come off easily and when she’s back down on the counter she helps him get her panties completely off and wiggles her feet so they fall on the ground.

Beth is panting heavily and clenching restlessly in anticipation but Rio firmly flattens his hands on her stomach, pushing her to lie on the counter. He makes a step back and lowers himself to her cunt. 

Beth wants to look at him, be able to remember how his face looks between her thighs but when Rio cups her breasts and palms them strongly, she lets her eyes close and her head fall.

She shivers when she feels his breath over her naked cunt, and again when he presses a soft kiss over her lips. With his thumb and index, he opens her folds and grunts when he sees how wet she is. He sticks out his tongue and purposefully licks her all the way, coating himself with her secretion. 

When he reaches her knob he first places a gentle kiss over it, before sucking on it and making her whine breathlessly. He grabs her thighs and presses his fingers into her flesh. 

When his name bursts out of her mouth he loses himself in her cunt and eats her out until her back is arching and her legs are trembling.

Her eyes are still fluttered shut when he hops himself on top of her and crowds her with his smell. He kisses her neck and goes up to her mouth where she can taste herself on him. 

She's spent but arousal quickly gets her back to her sense, making her want more. She's writhing under him, wanting to grind down on him but he’s too far so she reaches for him. 

She palms his erection and starts stroking until he suddenly shoves her to the longer side of the island so he can hover fully on top of her.

He watches her for a slight moment, the sweat on her forehead, the redness of her lips, her eyes- and maybe he realizes once again she’s alive under him because he surges to her lips and starts grinding frantically against her. 

She moans again, once in pleasure, once in complaint after her hands pressed his ass between her legs and she realized the friction wasn’t enough. She wants to reach his zipper but there is not enough space for her hands between their bodies.

He pulls away, straddling her and letting his hands graze down her chest, breasts, and stomach, then pulling them up under her shirt while she lets her own hands graze all the way down to unzip his pants.

He gives her just enough time to unzip and he rushes to her again. It’s like he can’t get enough of her. And while she slips her hand inside his boxers he pulls up her shirt to nibble her breasts.

They both take a sharp breath as their skin touch, electric, when she wraps her hand around his length and starts stroking slowly. Her pace gets faster as his kisses get more intense. When he sucks on her right nipple and takes it between his teeth her hand squeezes around him and he groans. 

That’s when he can’t take it anymore: their heavy and frantic breathing, her slight moans in his ears. He pulls away and takes down his jeans and boxers, carefully rubs himself between her folds before pushing in in one slow motion, making both of them catch a long breath.

He comes down to her neck and she wraps her legs around him to keep him as close as they physically can. 

Their rhythm is purposeful, passionate, needy. Her nails dig into his back, scratch up and down, then up again. It makes him grunt and it makes her wet. His pelvis grinds against her oscillating hips, creating friction against her electric knob.

Beth has never lost herself so deep into someone else. And even when they had done it before, it had never felt like it does right now. Like her body is only meant to be like this: melting in a blistering passion, forever. Like her mouth is only meant to taste the salt of his skin on his shoulder, like her nose is only meant to smell the unique scent of his sweat blended with hers, like her ears are only meant to hear the low muffled sounds of his voice against her neck. 

Mouth against mouth, they take hollow breaths with each thrust. They work themselves closer and closer to their orgasm, breathing erratic, bodies bouncing and sweating. Until Beth’s feet tense, her legs tremble around Rio and Rio falls out of rhythm in Beth’s arms. 

Rio takes her lips into his teeth, places open-mouthed kisses on it, twirls his tongue inside her mouth, breathes her in, moans in sync with her. Tension eases down as they embrace each other, with no less passion but more tenderness, kissing each other slowly, deliberately. Beth runs her fingers over his back, Rio hooks his hand under her thigh and strokes the flesh softly.

It’s when the first syllables of her name come out of his mouth that he stops himself. Those syllables sounding too intimate in his mouth. He opens his eyes and finds her eyes closed, still drifting on their high. He has to close them again to collect himself. He bites his lips and slowly pulls away from her. 

Beth opens her eyes to the sudden cold of his body leaving hers. Realizing what he has, she looks away while he pulls out of her and gets down from the island.

He slowly puts his pants back on as she just as silently sits on the edge of the counter. He glances at her and slouch down to get her panties and sweatpants and gives them to her.

An inaudible, and still breathless, “thank you” leaves Beth’s lips.

She doesn’t put them on, just stands awkwardly, trying to regain her breath, a normal heartbeat, and a functioning brain.

He takes a deep breath, looks at her one last time in the eyes before nodding slightly and turning his heels, leaving her home.

It takes Beth another couple of minutes before she can understand what just happened. She tries to collect her thoughts as a knot forms in her throat, making it no easier for her to breathe, but making tears prickle at the corner of her eyes.

She looks down at her pants in her hands. 

There’s no need to put them back on, she should go take a shower.

It takes yet another couple of minutes before her legs can move her to her bathroom.

She walks under the cold water before it becomes warm and tries not to remember every place he touched her and kissed her when she brushes her hands over her body to wash it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth is determined to make Rio admit their relationship is more than work and Rio is determined to make her take responsibility for her actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has this turned into an angsty Beth-and-Rio-face-the-consequences-of-their-actions fic? Or was it my plan all along?

“Beth? Bethie?”

Beth is pulled out of her thoughts. Dean’s voice sounds like it’s coming from far away, she has no idea how long he’s been talking to her. Could be a minute, could be an hour. 

“Hm?”

She looks up to him and Dean seems to notice something telling about her mood. 

“Are you okay?”

There’s a beat before Beth can get her senses back and find something to answer. She looks down at her coffee mug. 

“Yeah, sorry. Didn’t sleep so well last night. I keep thinking about this big order… I don’t know if we’ll be able to make it in time.”

Dean gets back in motion as soon as he’s heard her answer.

“You worry too much Bethie. I’m sure it’ll be fine. You’re the best card printer I know,” he tells her as he gathers his breakfast dishes to put in the sink.

She smiles weakly. On the one hand, she doesn’t want him to know what’s really bothering her but on the other, she’s disappointed that he would sweep her problem away like it’s unimportant, like she’s stupid to care. They’d been trying to make their relationship work and most of the time she believed it could, but every now and then he would say or do something that reminded her of how he considered her, and she would remember how much she didn’t like that version of herself. Even more so since her life had taken the biggest turn and she was nothing like the person she used to be.

Although, what she was thinking about wasn’t helping the status of her marriage either. In her morning haze, slowly turning her little spoon in her coffee, her eyes had focused on the marble counter in front of her. While watching it, she started feeling the cold of it against her back, then the warmth of something else low in her stomach, between her thighs, and against her chest. Before she knew it, she was on top of the counter, Rio above her, kissing her, moving against her, inside of her, her memory a mess of moans and burning sensations. So, no, she wasn’t really listening to what Dean was saying.

“What were you saying?”

“I was asking you at what time I have to pick Jane up from dance class.”

Disappointment is probably readable on her face but Beth tries to conceal it with a honey voice. “Four. But it’s tomorrow.”

“Right, I guess you’re not the only one with their head in the clouds today,” he jokes.

Beth forces a smile.

* * *

Later that day, when the sun is down, she’s sitting at a well-known picnic table.

“Boss not here?” she asks as Mick walks alone towards her.

He doesn’t answer her, just slides two boxes in front of her.

Beth raises her eyebrows visibly high and since Mick doesn't react she insists, “ _Two_ boxes?”

Mick lazily levels his eyes to Beth's. “Usual cut, plus the cut from your last mission.”

Beth frowns. “Why?”

“Why what?” he sighs. 

“I was told I wouldn’t get one for that mission.”

Mick looks down at the boxes then back at Beth. “You don't want it?”

Understanding that she won't get any more answers from him, Beth straightens her back before answering, “That’s fine, thank you.” She grabs the boxes and Mick walks off shaking his head. 

He hadn’t reached out since it happened. Rio. He had gone MIA on her, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She’d been in a haze since it happened. She was constantly thinking about it, trying to decipher how they got there. She gets flashes of that day, from him standing in her doorway, to their lips crushing together, to his body over hers, to the cold shower on her back after he left. But she can never see it happening fully, she can never understand how they went from point A to point Z. She can’t even understand how they got to point A in the first place if point A is him showing up breathless at her door. 

Sometimes she remembers some things but she’s never sure if it really happened or if her brain is making something up. It must be her brain making things up because it sounds ridiculous when she thinks about it. For example, she thinks she remembers them hearing about a plane crash on TV and then they looked at each other as if he’d just admitted to thinking she was on that plane, and that that was the reason why he rushed to her house. But that was ridiculous and impossible because it would mean that he was worried about her. So worried he drove over there as soon as he heard the news to make sure she was okay. It didn’t make any sense.

And it makes her go crazy because this hypothesis tracks with how urgent his kisses were, with how tight he was holding her like he was afraid to lose her. Or maybe it was just the heat of the moment because she was holding him tight too. She was scratching his skin like she wanted to cling onto him, mark him, keep him for herself. But that didn’t make sense either because they were supposed to hate each other. She hated him, right? After everything that happened he could never _like_ her? Much less _want_ her? And he was waiting for the perfect reason to kill her so she couldn't like him? Couldn't want him? So, then, what happened there? What did it mean?

She needs to talk to him, find out what he knew, what he thought, what he felt, what he still feels. She can’t be the only one spiraling over this. If she is, what does it mean about her? This time, she isn't interested in innuendos, provocation, or any other deflecting strategies he often used on her. What happened meant something she’s sure. You don’t go from wanting each other dead to sleeping with each other without any meaning. If they both had deflected before in their relationship they couldn’t now, she wouldn’t let them.

* * *

Beth immediately decided to share this cut with the girls. It didn’t matter that they weren’t there, they needed the money as much as she did. It might invite some suspicion but she couldn’t keep the money all to herself (and maybe a part of her desperately wanted to share the whole story with her friends because if he wasn’t talking to her she didn't know how she wouldn’t implode without talking about this to anyone). So she gave the money to the girls the next day.

"Oh, before I forget," Beth starts before leaving the kitchen for her bedroom. She comes back with three wads of bills and slides each one across the island to the girls. "Here are your cuts." 

Annie's eyes widen and she grabs the bills. "Wow, we are _flushed_ ," she exclaims as she parts the bills in a fan, trying to get a better understanding of just how much she’s holding in her hands. 

Ruby laughs mischievously before her eyes narrow on the bills Annie is holding. She looks down at her own wad and frowns before taking it in her hands, weighing it. “Yeah, it does feel like a lot.” Her eyes level up to Beth who’s ignoring her. “B?” she insists.

Beth keeps looking down, rearranging things on the counter for something to do. “Hm? What?” she asks like she wasn’t paying attention to what had been said.

“This _is_ more money than we usually get, why is that?” Ruby repeats.

“Why are you so suspicious, dude? We got more money! I don’t care how that happened. But I _am_ thankful.” Annie pointedly turns her head to Beth, “Thank you.”

But Ruby grows even more suspicious by the way Beth’s fingers fidget and the way she just cleared her throat. “What happened?”

Ruby knew Beth too well for Beth to wriggle her way out of this. She had to give her something, and it had to be true, even if it wasn’t the whole truth.

“I just got more because of this trip in Utah,” she answers, detached.

Annie nods her head explicitly like she means “see?” but Ruby is not convinced. Something is still missing.

“But I thought you wouldn’t get a cut.”

“Well, I guess he changed his mind. We’re not going to complain,” she defends, but the way she tries to get rid of the subject is so obvious it’s not helping her case.

“Right! We’re not going to complain, Ruby!” Annie repeats as she stares at Ruby wide-eyed. “Gangfriend is _obviously_ thankful for Beth and so are we!” But the second the words pop out of her mouth something sets wrong within her.

Ruby gives one last look at Beth who shrugs and then she agrees, “alright, I guess we can be thankful then.”

Annie shakes her head. “No, no, no actually you’re right.”

Ruby squints at Annie, giving her an exasperated look.

“Why _is_ gangfriend thankful? Why would he be? You’re just doing your job. I mean, you shot him and we all thought he was dead so the least you could do was do extra time for him, right?” She turns her head to Ruby who’s still giving her a side-eye. 

Annie raises her eyebrows, asking for Ruby to consider it and Ruby gets to thinking. When she can’t find a suitable answer for Annie’s questions they both turn to Beth.

“What happened?”

Beth shrugs and awkwardly pouts as she shakes her head.

It takes two seconds for Annie to get it.

“ _Oh,_ oh no. You- no.”

Ruby’s eyes dart between her and Beth. “What?”

Annie keeps staring at Beth, observing her every move, trying to find proof that it’s not what she believes it is but everything tells her she’s right.

“You- didn’t! Are you fucking kidding me?”

“What?” Beth snaps.

“Oh, ho, no you can’t play this game with me sis’, remember?” 

“Really wish I could right now,” Beth mumbles.

Ruby waves her hands between Annie and Beth. “Hey! Help a girl out? What’s going on?”

Annie turns her body fully to Ruby. “Oh, you don’t guess?”

Ruby frowns, confused.

“It happened. _Again._ ”

“What happened again?”

Beth knows Ruby doesn’t understand because she probably doesn’t want it to be true. Because she thinks Beth is better than that, that she wouldn’t make this enormous mistake twice.

Ruby turns her head to Beth and when she finally understands her look is pitiful. Like she actually pities Beth’s decision, like she’s disappointed in her even though there’s nothing she can do about it now that it’s done.

“What, nothing? You’re not going to tell her anything? Am I the only one who’s pissed because her vagina is gonna get us all killed because it couldn’t wait for the second round? Oh no, wait, third round right? Or maybe tenth round, who knows? Fiftieth-”

“It’s not the fiftieth time.”

“Oh, excuse me forty-ninth?”

Beth sighs, “It’s not like that Annie.”

“And what is it like then? No, you know what, that’s actually the _last_ thing I wanna know.”

“And he’s not going to kill us," Beth affirms. 

“Right,” Annie exclaims, stressing the “i”. “You haven’t already said that and it hasn’t already ended in a shitstorm.”

“It’s different this time.” 

There’s really nothing Beth can say or do at this point that would calm Annie. All she can do is answer as honestly as possible, knowing fully well she’s not telling the truth at all.

“Is it? Why? Because he’s payin’ you? Are you renting it now?”

“Okay, Annie. Let’s stop now,” Ruby intervenes.

“You’re on _her_ side, really?”

“I’m on nobody’s side. But you need to calm down.”

“Right. _I_ need to calm down. You know what? I’m actually gonna go home, lock my door, and patiently wait for a very _friendly_ acquaintance of ours to come shoot me in the head as I _calm down_.”

She storms out, Beth is frozen in place, feeling guilty, feeling dirty, feeling like a disappointment. 

There’s a cold silence as Ruby gives her some time to recover from all the atrocities she’s just heard from her sister before she can give her a piece of her mind. 

“You fucked up,” Ruby states with as much sympathy as she can, given the circumstances.

And of course, she did. Beth understands that. Even if she believes her relationship with Rio is more complicated than the girls know and can understand. 

When she thinks about it Beth realizes maybe they couldn’t have avoided it. Since the day they met she constantly tried to bury the tension there was between them, the longing she had for him and his world, but it’s only built up the tension even higher. So maybe what happened was a moment of weakness from her where she stopped hiding. But the thing is, she wasn’t alone in that kitchen, he was there too. The way he stroke her thighs as he held them to her chest, how he buried his face in her neck and licked her there... It could have been just about sex, but _that_ wasn't, right? It was more. She wasn’t the only one responsible in this story. It was like they couldn’t be stopped, the world could have gone on fire, they wouldn’t have cared because they would have been the source of it. She knows it sounds stupid but it's the only reason for it all she has. The only thing is she won't allow herself to express these thoughts out loud as long as she hasn't seen him and seen into his eyes that he feels the same. So she can't say anything to the girls - if she ever will-. 

And she doesn’t think he would ever go for the girls either. But she also doesn’t know it for sure, so it would be crazy not to worry at all. So she doesn’t blame the girls for it. At least, Ruby is not badgering her with it any more than Annie just did.

* * *

"Hm?" 

"Hm?" 

"You order? You made it in time? I forgot to ask you the other day." 

"Oh, right. Yeah, it was postponed," Beth says before burying herself back in her book. 

Dean rounds the bed, opens the sheets, and tucks himself in. He turns to her side, one fist under his head for support.

"Hey, are you okay Bethie? You've seemed a little distracted these days." 

He's right, Beth _had_ been a little distant lately. Maybe at first, she’d been so lost in her own thoughts she had been completely oblivious to Dean -and her whole life outside of what happened-. But Dean had been so present these days, so curiously interested in her life that she couldn’t ignore it anymore. And it wasn’t fair to Dean, she knows. It wasn’t fair to their marriage and all the progress they’d made but it was so difficult to look at him in the eyes and tell him everything was fine. 

She's spent the last two weeks overthinking what happened and it was getting in the way of their marriage's recovery. It was all starting to tickle her. How could he threaten to kill her, send her away, then come into her house all jittery and- and what? She still doesn't know. It had happened all so fast, she was left with even more questions than she had before. He had no right. He was always telling her that she had to choose between being a drug dealer and mother, but what about being a wife? She'd chosen to repair her marriage with her _husband_ and he was blocking her from doing that. Since day one with his innuendos he'd been trying to get her away from Dean. Either he had a good reason for it or he had to stop. 

She has to set things straight. Her next drop is tomorrow and this time she won’t miss the chance to talk to him. He’d better be there. She’ll make sure he’ll be there. And then Dean and her can go back to being the happy couple and family they were before he came into her life.

"I'm just… tired," she simply offers. "He’s giving me no time to rest these days… Probably to punish me or something.” A half-lie. Determined that it’s the last time she’ll have to do it.

Dean considers her. She wonders if he’s deciding whether or not to trust her. Although the tiniest pull at the corner of his lips gives away he’s trying to decide between being worried about his wife’s health and the satisfaction of knowing Rio is nowhere near friendly with her.

“Does it have anything to do with that trip?” he asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

Beth only looks at him and Dean seems to recognize a familiar weakness in her eyes. The kind that makes him want to stick out his chest and pull her into his arms to protect her fragile self. And he does pull her in.

“What happened? Did you get hurt? You don’t have to hide your bruises from me Bethie,” he reassures her. 

Beth doesn’t get it right away. What bruises? She looks down at herself and realizes one more thing. It wasn’t just mentally that she’d been distant. She’d also been physically distant. But that was a whole other story. The truth was when she’d showered after… she’d discovered hickeys. All over her chest and neck. One her collar bone, one on the top of her left breast, one in between her breasts, one on the right side, one in the middle of her stomach, one on her left hip… Fortunately, the ones higher up took only a day or two to go away, but some were less inclined to leave her body and she’d had to hide herself -quite literally- from Dean. 

It’s not like she hadn’t wanted to have sex with Dean. Sometimes she even craved it. She wouldn’t admit it to herself but when she saw those marks in the reflection of her mirror, she felt exhilarated, hot, turned on. And Dean was there, and she wanted him, wanted a warm body against hers, maybe wanted him to bite those same bruises. But then she remembered she couldn’t do it. She’d go to bed frustrated and would dream about a tattooed man crawling over her. Dreams that had her waking up in a sweat, and which she would have never allowed herself to have if she’d been awake.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” is all she says as she tucks herself further in his arms. And it might be the worst thing Beth has ever done to Dean. Making him think that she’s been hurt? Hit? Making him worry when really she just cheated on him? That was bad, even for her. But it’s all she could come up with right now. And since what happened with Rio would never happen again, she didn’t think it was worth mentioning anyway. 

* * *

At the next meeting, she’s ready to get him to talk. She has waited enough. So when Mick shows up alone, again, she doesn’t ask, she demands.

“Get. Him. Here.”

Mick knew exactly what she meant. He was in the middle of this. He probably didn’t want to, but that wasn’t his choice. But then again, neither was it Beth’s.

It had been over two weeks now and he was still refusing to talk to her or see even her. Everybody around her had asked her about this trip except for the one person that should have. He should feel concerned, right? She's been boiling each day that’s passed and she hasn’t heard from him. If she knew where he lived she probably would have barged in a long time ago, asking for an explanation, a conversation. But she didn’t know where he lived and he wasn’t even answering her texts. 

Just today she’d asked him what time they were meeting for the exchange -knowing well that there wasn’t any change to their usual meeting time- and she’d got an answer from Mick mere seconds later. Clearly indicating that they were together when he received it but declined to answer himself.

How childish was that? To ignore her, to act like he didn’t care, like he couldn’t be bothered. Like what happened didn’t mean anything, when she knows it did. It meant something. She doesn’t know what but it meant _something_. How else would he explain what happened? How else would he explain that he's been ghosting her? If everything was fine, if nothing had changed in their relationship he would show up. Knowing him he would even be smug about it. He would brag about getting into her panties, but he wasn't. He was acting dead. She doesn't know how he thinks this strategy will play out because the longer he makes her wait the more obsessed she becomes with getting answers. She _will_ know what happened, _will_ know the real reason he came to her house, to her. Why he seemed to have rushed over there. Why he _did_ rush to her when he kissed her. Why his kisses were so _urgent_ and _passionate_. Why every one of his moves was so _purposeful_. 

Mick brings his phone to his ear reluctantly and Beth waits back and head straight, elbows on the table, fingers intertwined.

* * *

It could be twenty, thirty minutes after the call, an hour, she couldn’t say. Minutes can get pretty long when you wait outside in the cold. But no matter how long she’s waited, she’s pretty sure he took more time than needed to come just to rile her. Or maybe he thought she’d give up. Wrong again.

He sits in front of her and mirrors her position, except laid back, or so he wants it to seem. He doesn’t say anything and after a few minutes gets annoyed.

“What’ you want?”

“To talk,” she answers sharply.

“Go ahead then.”

Funny how Beth wears her anger pretty well, she’s cold-blooded, patient. Whereas he, who wants to seem unbothered, breathes loudly through his nostrils and holds his hands so tight his knuckles are whitening.

“I thought you’d want to give me some explanation.”

She keeps her head straight and her eyes at level with his. However, _his_ eyes are shifty, and she notices them go to Mick for the slightest second and she understands more than not wanting to talk with her, more than not wanting to talk about what happened, he didn’t want it to happen in front of Mick. Whereas, she, at this point, doesn’t care anymore. He’s not stupid. Rio got her into this mess and now he has to take responsibility for it. And it’s probably for the better if his employees know he’s a walking impulsive, thoughtless, heartless nightmare.

So what she doesn’t expect is the smirk that forms on his face.

“Yeah, sure,” he starts, self-satisfied, “worked out so well in Utah you gonna be going there regularly from now on.” He turns to Mick. “I don’t know, every two weeks to start? Then if everything goes well it’ll probably be every week. It’s already all arranged.” He nods before turning back to her.

She’s taken by surprise and it makes her forget the initial reason she was mad. Because now she’s mad about something else.

“I’m sorry, what? You can’t do that. I’m not going to do that, you can’t ask me that,” she’s a little bit at loss for words as she feels the situation slipping through her fingers.

“Can’t argue right now Elizabeth, gotta go.” And with that, he gets up and dismisses her and her concerns. Before opening the car door he turns his head and smiles at her. “You can start packin’”.

* * *

A curse. A real curse. There was nothing else he could think about to describe her. If he’d never met her he would have been fine. If she’d never lured him into that bathroom, if she’d never invited him into her house… He’d made so many concessions for her and for what? He’d given her a chance in this business and all she did in return was betray him. 

She had shot him and he thought he would be done with her. Forever. Because no one gets away with something like that. _No one_. But here he was and she’d done it again. She’d made it difficult for him to do his job. He’d asked her one simple thing and even that she couldn’t do. She had to keep secrets from him, had to make him chase after her and it wasn’t his fucking job to keep track of her whereabouts. Hell, she’d lured him into her house, _again_. She knew he wouldn’t stay away. She knew he’d be there, ready to blow her head off if she didn’t do the right thing. She was waiting for him in that house. She knew exactly how frustrated he would be…

And what now? He had to set up weekly meetings in Utah for her? Like he had time to do any of that. Like he wanted to make time for her. He didn’t want to see her face, didn’t want to talk to her, or even think about her. Yet, every time he was in the shower, every time he was in bed -alone or with someone else-, or every time he was daydreaming he was thinking about her. Thinking about what happened on that counter. Thinking about her skin on his. And it made him want to crawl out of it. It disgusted him. He _had_ to find other women to hook up with. But it wasn't working because he couldn't dig his fingers in their flesh like he could in Elizabeth's cheeks and waist, it wasn't as smooth when he grazed his mouth over their breasts and nipples, and eventually, he'd only see _her_ writhing under him. So he had to bury himself into his work. But what was his work right now? Elizabeth. Fucking Elizabeth was what he had to take care of. 

There wasn’t anything arranged. There wasn’t supposed to be any more meetings over there. Or at least not now, not so soon, not regularly. 

After spending the whole car drive grinding his teeth, Rio rationalizes: if this does take place, she’ll be occupied most of the time and he won’t have to deal with her anymore. So maybe this would be worth the extra time. 

A few days later, he embarrasses himself, almost begging for a new deal, but it’s all worth it because she’s going to hate it and he’ll never have to deal with her again, he’s going to make sure of it. 

But that’s not how it goes. On the day of her flight, he receives a text from his contact.

_“Where the bitch at?”_

No… No. That wasn’t possible. It had taken her less than a week to fuck it up again. To ruin his plans before they’d even started. But this was the last time. She’d have to face her responsibilities. Who she really was. What this business was really about.

Without a second thought, he takes his car keys and drives to her house. It’s a weeknight, she’s busy and her husband is there. He doesn’t care. The game is over. He pulls over in front of her car, rings her doorbell, and demands she get into his car. 

* * *

“Where are we going?” 

He doesn’t answer.

Not that she ignored his orders on purpose, just to annoy him, there was just no way she was going to Utah again. Even less regularly. However, seeing him annoyed kind of pleased her. He was ready to explode and she needed him to. That was the only way she’d get anything out of him about what happened. 

He drives her to a warehouse outside of the city. It’s night and kind of creepy, maybe she should be a little bit more scared than she is. She does feel some goosebumps but it could be apprehension, excitement, adrenaline, she doesn’t know.

They enter and it’s dark. Before he turns on the light someone calls them from inside, their voice echoing all around them.

“Hey, is someone here? I’m over here! I’m tied up man, they’ve been keeping me for days, I think I have bugs in my buttcrack!... Hello?”

Beth is surprised by the presence of someone in here, her brain assaults her with sudden questions. The familiar weak voice makes her ears ring but she doesn’t recognize it.

Rio turns on the lights and, sitting on the floor in the corner of the room, chained up, dirty, and slightly beat up -probably just to shut him up- is Boomer.

“Oh, no, please let me out. I don’t know what you want from me, man! I told you everything I know, you gotta go after those bitches!” He turns his head and his eyes widen at the sight of Beth. He wants to point at her, but he forgets his hands are tightened behind his back and he ends up throwing his elbow out, making him lose balance. He falls head first on his side. He grunts and tries to get back in a straight position. “It’s her! Oh my god, it’s her! She’s the main bitch! You have her now so shoot her and let me go!”

It’s always ridiculously laughable how Boomer doesn’t get anything about anything. Always out of the loop. And here again, he doesn’t understand what’s coming for him. Beth doesn’t know it either, she’s still pretty confused, but the situation would be explained to her shortly.

Rio walks up to him and pulls him up by the shoulder of his sweatshirt. “Get up.” 

Boomer tries to get up and trips over his own feet a few times. “Are you gonna let me go? I knew you were the good one. I could see it in your eyes, you have a good heart. I’ll owe you this one… I mean if I can find a job. I don’t know where. I don’t know if I can come back as a manager at my old job. But you know if I do, you’ll be the first to know, I can get you a discount on first-aid kits, I bet you guys use this kind of stuff often...”

As Boomer babbles, Rio silently brings him to the center of the room, his jaw clenching more with each of his words. He sits Boomer on a folding chair and attaches him to it.

“Wait, what are you doing? You’re not gonna let me g-” 

Rio slaps Boomer with the back of his hand and it has the efficiency of silencing him instantly. A relief to both Rio and Beth. Although Beth is getting increasingly anxious about this. She has no idea why Rio would bring her here, or rather she chooses to ignore any idea that comes through her head. She understands the link between her and Boomer. He’s her rotten egg, she should have “taken care” of him long ago but she didn’t. She thought if Rio hadn’t beat her to it, it meant Boomer wasn’t that much of a threat… Or that he had other purposes for him, but that she highly doubted. So why was she here?

If her hands were sweaty, her brain was brimming with energy. She didn’t want to think of it but this was actually exciting: to see where he was willing to go to try to get under her skin, to punish her, to prove a point. It all meant _she_ was getting under his skin. The thought of him getting all riled up by her simple presence, by her every move was simply delicious to her, maybe even arousing.

She crosses her arms on her chest. “What’s this about? Why am I here?” she asks firmly.

Rio reaches behind him and she knows exactly what that means. She straightens her back to the sight of the metal held tightly in his hand. Being excited didn’t mean that she was naive or even that the rational part of her brain wasn’t righteously scared.

“Wow, that looks dangerous. Maybe we should just all take a breath and ask ourselves if all of this is necessary.” 

Rio only gives Boomer a side look and he shuts up.

Beth’s brain on the other hand is thinking fast, very fast. Who is this gun destined for? She feels tingles in her legs. Should she run away from him? Or towards him? But she doesn’t move an inch. It’s like her body is telling her to run but her brain isn’t afraid, it's fueled by adrenaline but focused. And it focuses on the actual gun. It’s not his. She’s never seen this one and it looks like his is still in his pants.

Rio starts walking around the room slowly, waving his gun in whichever direction as he speaks. “You do a lot of good work, Elizabeth. I mean, we _did_ meet because you tried to rob me... You showed promising talent. Then we decided to merge our businesses, right? And I taught you a little bit about my world and how this all works.” He stops.” But it seems,” he puts his hand on his chest, “and that is _my_ bad,” he emphasizes with irony, “that I have forgotten to teach a lesson that’s made you… reckless.” He walks around, waving his gun more or less in her direction now. “It seems I have forgotten to teach you responsibility. And that’s… well that’s what’s got us here darlin’.” He gives her a crooked smile.

They didn’t merge anything, Beth thinks. He robbed her of her money and her business. And then he kept taking and taking. It’s all he ever does. He manipulates her into doing something she doesn’t want to, something for _him_ , pushing her further down the rabbit hole. It’s only ever about him. Like this pitch he’s giving her, making himself look good because there’s no other way that can happen. Especially not by her. But he seems to take his time talking. What is he waiting for? For her to agree? For her to compliment him? _Thank_ him? That’s not going to happen so she cuts short to it.

“So what do you want from me?”

He stops all movement. Then as simply as saying hello he shrugs and tells her: “I want you to kill him,” he glances at Bommer. “Your rotten egg. Take care of him.”

“What?!” Boomer screams, but at this point, no one’s listening to him anymore. 

Especially not Beth. The second Rio said the words her brain short-circuited. _I want you to kill him._ His words are echoing in her head. _He wants me to kill him. I have to kill him._ She starts imagining how it would go. It’s happening in front of her eyes: someone is holding a gun to Boomer's face and shoots but her point of view doesn’t enable her to see who did. _Is it her?_ It’s like she has an out of body experience and the camera slowly turns around to see who’s on the other side. Who just shot in cold blood the man sitting in front of her? Her heart beats faster and faster and when the camera has circled 90 degrees she sees herself. It’s her holding the gun. She doesn't seem to be afraid. She looks breathless but in control. _She can do it_. Her heart is not beating fast because she’s scared to do it, it's beating fast because she’s scared she has no problem doing it. But does she want to? Does she need to? He can’t just bring her to a warehouse in the middle of the night and ask her to shoot someone. Whoever the fuck it is. And god knows Boomer deserves it. 

She comes back to her senses. “I’m not going to do that,” she answers shortly like it was stupid of him to ask.

Rio raises his eyebrows briefly. “Not a question, Elizabeth.”

“I don’t give a shit. I have no reason to do it. Do it if you want to,” she hisses, getting increasingly hot and bothered.

“Not my rotten egg,” he reiterates with a tensed jaw.

He lifts his head and looks at her in the eye, daring her to do it, or to disobey him once more, she’s not sure.

This conversation is getting nowhere. They’ve had it enough times before. There’s no way she’s just going to obey him just like that and kill someone just because he asked her to. It’s the most ludicrous thing ever to her. And it’s not the reason she thought they were here. Not the reason they need to be in the same room right now. So she decides to circle back to the only reason she initially followed him here.

“Is that really why I’m here?” she crosses her arms on her chest, taking back control of the conversation.

“Why else?” he dodges, but his arms get tense.

“Because I thought there were other things we needed to discuss.” It’s so very obvious what she wants to talk about. She knows he knows. She dares him to be a coward any longer.

But he shakes his head and walks up to her to hand her the gun. “There’s nothing more to talk about, Elizabeth.”

He’s right in front of her, too close, probably trying to intimidate her. As if this had ever worked with them. It never intimidated anyone. Rather, it turned them on. But that wasn’t what this was, right? If she was suddenly feeling hot it was because of the pressure he was putting on her. If her guts were straining more than her brain it was because of the eagerness to slap his not so perfect face.

“Oh really?” she fronts. She opens her jacket to put her hands on her hips, pushing the jacket apart and behind her wrists.

But it doesn’t make him lose confidence, it doesn’t make him break. If anything, there's a tiny pull at the corner of his mouth when he looks her up and down. She follows his gaze and notices the shirt she’s wearing. It’s the keyhole sweater. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and she remembers how he trailed kisses from her neck down. She couldn’t have worn it on purpose because she didn’t know he was going to come pick her up. However, it is possible that, wearing it, she unconsciously knew the power it could hold over him, and her choice of opening her jacket and pushing her chest forward might have been not so innocent. 

It’s good if he’s distracted by her chest. It gives her the upper hand. He looks back at her and she knows he’s thinking about making a comment. But that would set him back, wouldn’t it? If he doesn’t want to acknowledge what happened between them he shouldn’t bring up the fact that her figures turn him on, right? So he composes himself and takes a step back.

“Don’t stall,” he tells her as he hands her the gun.

“I’m not stalling.”

“Then do it.”

There’s a silence as they hold each other’s gaze.

_Why is he so pressed to make her pull the trigger? Why now?_ She wonders. He challenges her often she knows but she doesn't understand why he brought back Boomer on the table. It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense either that he would, once again, hand her a gun to shoot someone. He knows how it ended last time, why would he put himself in danger again? Unless...

“You think I can’t do it?”

To her surprise, he doesn’t deny it. He’s probably so sure of himself he doesn’t mind the offense. He even goes so far as to explain his train of thought.

“Not in cold blood no.”

_Oh, so that’s what it’s about_ , Beth thinks. _Figures_. And he has a right to be mad, she _did_ shoot him. Three times. But he’s wrong, she _can_ do it. She has this weird certainty that she can. She’s not sure why, not sure how she’ll feel about it later on but the simple fact of him underestimating her like that makes her _want_ to do it. Maybe it’s childish, but she’s tired of being taken for something she’s not, tired of people saying she can’t take responsibility. 

“You’re wrong,” she counters.

“Then prove it to me,” he challenges once more.

One last time he hands her the gun and she takes it. It’s exhilarating. It’s not scary, it’s exciting. She knows how to hold it and she isn’t afraid to use it anymore. She didn’t know how she’d feel about holding a gun after shooting Rio but it seemed water had run under the bridge and although it felt kind of weird at first, it also felt familiar. The grip feels natural in her hand, it's perfectly molding her palm. It’s heavy but not unbalancing, it’s just heavy enough you know you can use it, heavy enough you feel powerful holding it. That’s how she feels: powerful. Because this time it’s her choice to hold the gun. She wants to. And most importantly, this time, it’s also going to be her choice when she pulls the trigger.

She walks up to Boomer, raises the gun to his forehead, and turns her head towards Rio. Silently, she asks him one more time if that’s really what he wants, if he’d rather not put a halt to the game and just talk about what’s on both their minds.

He looks back at her, unreadable, but the air is thick. Nothing feels real except for her eyes looking into his. They’re apart but it’s like something still ties them together. No matter how many steps they put between each other, no matter how much he wants to ignore their history right now, they’re in this together. 

The longer they look into each other’s gaze, the more it feels like they’re pulled closer, like the lights around them are dimming. She almost feels like she can feel his breath on her face, hear it so close to her ears, maybe it’s that easy for her brain to imagine it because the memory of it is so clear in her mind.

“Did you guys bone? Damn that gross. No wonder you won’t kill this bitch.”

And just like every time he didn’t know when to shut up. Right there, Boomer didn’t know he should have shut up. It would have been pretty obvious to anybody, especially when there’s a gun on your head. But not to Boomer, no. If they gave awards for least capable to read a room, Boomer would probably win a bunch of them. It’s almost like he _wants_ to get beaten up. Because they had actually forgotten about him. This fight they were having was never about Boomer. It could have been anyone in that chair but Boomer decided to remind them he was here. And in that moment, where Beth was feeling electric, she turned her head sharply towards Boomer and he regrets saying anything… ever. The glare she’s giving him silences the room. It downs its temperature a hundred degrees as she lifts her hand slaps his face with the butt of the gun as hard as she can.

“Shut the fuck up.”

She places the gun back on his forehead and one more time looks back at Rio.

He just looks at her. Beth cocks the gun.

“No, no, no please just-”

She shoots. Boomer screams. 

Boomer keeps screaming.

She turns her head back to him and he’s still alive. Her lips shiver a sigh of relief. She didn't kill him. There’s no trace of any bullet anywhere. No blood, no entry or exit point, nothing.

It quickly dawns on her: it was a blank shot. He played her. She opens the magazine and it’s empty. He gave her a gun with only one blank bullet. 

“What the hell?” she bursts out.

Rio doesn’t answer, he just looks at her smugly.

“Give me the real bullets I want to shoot him,” she orders, blinded by the humiliation she feels.

He pouts and shakes his head. “Nah.”

“No? What the fuck is wrong with you? What is this? A test? Another one of your twisted games?”

Beth is losing her mind and once again he doesn’t answer. Whether it’s because he doesn’t have an answer or doesn’t want to give her one, Beth doesn’t care. She’s had enough of always asking questions and never getting any answers. She’s had enough of being played. She didn’t come here to be humiliated. 

She stomps closer to him. “Give me the bullets!” she barks. “Why won’t you give them to me now?”

Her rage rushes her to him. She’ll shake him if she has to. Why would he bring her here, ask her to shoot someone, and when she’s finally ready to do it he plays her? That didn’t make any sense. And he’d said Boomer was her “rotten egg” that she had to “take care of him”, he must have been dying to see her do it, to finally cross the line. He’d been telling her to handle all her problems by shooting them and now that she was willing to do it he wouldn’t let her? Why?

She doesn’t realize she gets closer and closer as she rambles in a fury. “I thought you said I couldn’t do it? So why change the bullets then?” she challenges, but it’s a rhetorical question. She doesn’t want an answer, she just wants him to stop his games. And she doesn’t have any other questions either. So she stands in front of him and awaits his reaction, watching the muscles of his face tense one after the other. 

It's when she catches a glimpse of that familiar jaw tension that it dawns on her how close they are. She’d been so angry she’d walked up to him and entered his space. They were almost chest to chest and she had to look up to study him. As her eyes went from his jaw to his lips, to his nose, to his eyes, she noticed he wasn’t looking at her. He was actually actively looking away from her. His eyes were dark and his breathing heavy.

He wanted to manipulate her, get her to lose her footing, to lose her temper, but he hadn’t thought things all the way through. He hadn’t thought about what she could do after. What she could to him, the effect she has on him. And seeing him like this, Beth remembers she can also use their attraction to her advantage. He always does it, he uses their intimacy against her like it’s another one of his toys. She hadn’t even done anything besides getting close to him and now she wonders what could happen if she actually took advantage of it.

He’s never been in this position before. It’s unsettling, she knows, and she can see it physically on him. She can only dream about the thoughts that go through his head right now. She knows, on the other hand, what it does to her when she’s in this position. She knows she hates it as much as she loves it. She knows, if she has to admit it, she has trouble focusing and rationalizing in these moments. Losing the upper hand, not knowing what the other person has on their mind, what they’re going to do next… It could make you go crazy.

It pops into her mind that, if she can have this kind of impact on him, if she can get the upper hand, maybe he’s never sure either what she’s about to do. Maybe he brought her here with no idea how it would go. Maybe he just lost it after she canceled the mission on her end. She can never know what he’s actually thinking but it’s worth the try.

“You weren’t really sure, were you?” she says in a calm voice, tracing his body with her eyes. “You figured, if I could shoot you then it meant I could shoot anybody.” She takes one finger and ghosts it over the scars she’s given him. “That if I could leave you bleeding out I could certainly kill a garbage person like this little guy over there.” 

He probably doesn’t want it to but Rio’s breathing gets slowly in sync with hers. It would be difficult to act against it when the chest of the person in front of you guides yours as they slowly move up and down your own. Looking into hers, his eyes are dark and dangerous, just what she was looking for. He persists in keeping his mouth shut but he doesn’t need to say anything to confirm what she just asked. Whatever he says or does, she knows she has this power over him. The power to make him see red. 

“But you were wrong,” she affirms. “And I was wrong about you too,” she hints in a honey voice.

“What’s that?” he asks with difficulty, voice hoarse. 

She takes a deep breath, making him tense against her. “Well, I thought that after fucking me in my kitchen you’d have the courage to admit this isn’t just business but apparently… you don’t.”

His face falls and she loves to see it. How insulting must he think she’s just been? It doesn’t matter because it was enough to distract him as she quickly pulls out his gun and within a second turns around and shoots Boomer. When he clocks it he grabs her and pushes her arm down but it’s too late.

He seems to be in a little bit of a shock and doesn’t hold her very tight so she snakes out of his grip, takes a step away from him.

“There. And I took your advice.”

Rio looks at her intrigued

“I improved my aiming.”

He looks at Boomer who’s screaming with a bloody leg.

“I think we’re done here,” she declares.

Rio looks back at her, glaring, when his phone rings. An escape she’s sure he’s glad to have. He looks at his phone and slowly levels his head with hers. “I think we are. For tonight.” Then he brings the phone to his ear without leaving her gaze. “You can call yourself a drive home.”

Her eyes dart between his. She’s won. She can leave it here for now. She’s won tonight and it’s all that matters. She has the upper hand now.

She turns her back to him, walks away from him, and pockets out her phone to call herself an uber.

“Elizabeth.”

She stops and looks back.

“The gun.” 

He opens his palm. She’d forgotten she still had his gun in her hand. She would’ve held onto it if he hadn’t said anything. She walks back to him and places the gun in his hand.

“Don’t need this one anyway,” she whispers to him. Then she finally leaves, sure he’s watching her walk away.

* * *

Beth comes home hot and bothered. She’s not ready to go to bed yet. She has an itch to scratch. She has to get her way with someone, get them underneath her, get them to burst the yearning boiling inside. She quickly gets rid of her jacket and shoes, throwing them on the floor at the end of the bed, and straddles Dean’s still body over the sheets of their bed. 

Dean wakes up suddenly with a snort and his eyes widen when he sees his wife over him.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking advantage of my husband,” she says as she lowers down to kiss him.

“What time is it?” He looks over at the advanced time in the night. “What did he want?”

Beth whines, “I don’t want to talk about that right now.” She starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“It had to be pretty important given the way he practically kidnapped you.”

“Guess so,” she moans into his chest as she starts kissing him there.

“Although you didn’t seem to mind going.”

Beth lowers her kisses and Dean’s voice raises with annoyance.

“Why are you so horny right now? Are you drunk?”

She stops and slaps his chest softly.

“Dean. Do you really want to argue right now?”

“I want to know why you’re so horny all of sudden.”

She sighs, “I don’t know Dean. I really want to have sex with my husband is that a crime?”

“Well, it’s just you haven’t been in the mood for weeks and now all of a sudden you go on a secret meeting all night with throat tatt’s and you’re super horny.”

“Oh wow, seriously?” She straightens up. 

“Yeah Beth, it’s like you keep things from me so it’s hard for me to trust you.”

Beth frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know. Like that trip. You never told me what it was about, what you were doing there, who you were with…” Deans explains, at first confident, then slowly lowering his voice with each word.

“Woww. So you really had _no_ sympathy for me, you were just feeling around for some clues were you?” she replies in disbelief. As she removes herself from him she asks, “when I don’t want to have sex with you it’s a problem, and when I do want to have sex with you it’s also a problem. Ever thought the problem with our sex life wasn’t coming from me?”

Dean just avoids her eyes by turning his head deliberately to the side. She shakes her head, sighs, and disappears into the bathroom.

* * *

Beth hasn’t had a lot of news from Annie since their fight. Just the essentials. She’d got a key to Paper Porcupine and when Beth was working, she would come in through the back door and start her part of the process on her own, then leave the rest to Beth and Ruby for later. Beth had tried calling or texting but the best she’d got was a “k”. She knows her sister can be stubborn and she also knows that it won’t last, but the whole thing was still weighing on her. Fortunately, she could still get news about Annie through Ruby who was still talking to her. Ruby was angry as well, but she didn’t want the situation to spiral out of control. 

“Do you know when she’ll come back?” 

“Who?”

“Annie. Do you know when she’ll be ready to do this at the same time as us? It’s not really working, we’re losing time," Beth asks, busying herself with her hands.

Ruby looks at her for a second then gets back to her bills.

“I don’t know… She’s still pretty mad.”

“Yeah, well, she can stay mad but if we don’t deliver on time my ass is on the line.”

“Yeah, how’s that going?” Ruby asks calmly.

“What?”

Ruby stops and turns to Beth.

“Your relationship with gangfriend, how’s that going?”

Beth stops as well and looks at her, unsure of Ruby’s interest in the matter or how she should respond. Usually, they tried to avoid talking about him -as much as they could given the circumstances of their meetings-.

“It’s not that I want to know. I just have to know if our lives are at risk,” she clarifies.

Beth feels strangely relieved. Relieved that Ruby doesn’t care, that she doesn’t have to justify anything. Although it quickly dawns on her that given what happened in the warehouse the other night, she’s not really sure where they stand with each other anymore -if she ever knew-. She doesn’t know how angry he is. There isn’t an answer she can give Ruby that would be satisfying to either of them so she resumes cutting the bills.

“I just want this batch to be ready on time.”

Ruby doesn’t insist.

* * *

Beth spends the next day, busying herself, trying to avoid Dean and anything that could trigger negative thoughts. She knows she has some stuff to deal with, some pretty urgent or important stuff but sometimes it feels good to just deny your responsibilities and let yourself breathe for a minute. So that’s what she did that day. And when dinner was over and Dean awkwardly stood in the hallway, trying to find something to say to get her to talk to him, or at least to go to bed, she started cleaning the kitchen so he quickly gave up. And it felt good to clean the kitchen -probably some metaphor about cleaning up her life and her messes- so she kept cleaning until one, two in the morning. Until she found a piece of equipment that needed a place to be hidden: the gun she’d finally got for herself. 

She took it out of her purse and stood still in her hallway, scanning her home for the best hiding place. The longer she stood there, the heavier the gun felt in her hand. She looked down at it and her hand felt really far away like it didn’t belong to her. And it felt _so_ cold. How did it ever feel so familiar in that warehouse? 

The warehouse… It feels like a fever dream: her willingly holding someone at gunpoint, determined to end their life. Somehow she _can_ believe it was her but it’s like it happened in another reality, with another version of herself. She remembers being convinced she could do it: kill someone. But she has trouble remembering if she really wanted to. She has trouble remembering _how_ she got to that point. She remembers wanting it bad but then feeling relieved that he wasn’t dead. Because it meant she wasn’t a murderer. So maybe she didn’t want it bad enough, or maybe she was fooling herself believing she could ever do something like this in the first place. 

She’d shot Rio before but it was more out of fear than out of will. She’d never shot anyone because she wanted to before that day and she doesn't know how she feels about it. Is she scared of what she’s capable of doing now? Is she proud to have been able to do it? To have stuck it to Rio? Does she regret doing it? Is it bad if she doesn’t? Does it mean she’s heartless? Does it mean she’s losing the sense of who she is?

That one time, when Rio had asked her to take care of Boomer, she was holding a gun to his head, and in the end she couldn’t do it. She chose to give him money instead. So maybe she wasn’t capable of killing anyone in cold blood. Because even in the warehouse Rio had riled her up, maybe it was the only reason she’d been able to pull the trigger. Except when she looks down on her left hand, it _is_ her hand holding the gun and no one else’s. It _is_ her who pulled the trigger. She made that choice. No matter the context, it was her choice. Things have changed since the first time she held a gun. _She_ ’s changed. She’s no longer scared, she’s more fierce, her emotions have sharpened and she’s more in control. Killing a man willingly was a step she had yet to take but she could feel it getting closer and closer. Not closer as she was getting more and more involved in illegal activities, but closer as she was becoming capable of doing it, conscience-free. She was evolving, becoming someone new, someone fearless and dangerous, and that was scary to her.

Some part of her brain still strongly believes she’s a simple, good mother and housewife. She’s loved being a mother and it’s a life she’s learned to be content with. She also knows another part of her life is now entangled in crime, and she knows she’s loved this part from day one. The crime life had created something in her, or rather it had awakened someone she might have always been. But the two had never collided quite as strikingly as the image of her right now standing six feet away from her peacefully sleeping children holding a gun, her gun, that she would keep under the same roof as them. It was all starting to blur: her life in the daylight and her life in the night. Yet it was still hard for her to understand that both were her, both had to live.

She finds a place for it inside one of her kitchen drawers and her eyes wander around. She wonders if her house still looks the same now that she knows there’s a gun inside it. Now that she’s let her crime life invade the privacy of her home. She’s ready to forget it all when her eyes find the alcohol cabinet and her feet walk her to it without much hesitation. She pours herself a drink and has the opportunity to enjoy the lonely and calming cold silence one minute more before someone walks into her kitchen from the backdoor.

It was Rio.

* * *

He had come as soon as he’d heard the news. He hadn’t rushed or anything, it’s just that it was so late in the night, he had nothing else to do and it wasn’t the kind of information you could wait to give. Besides, he knew she would fuss about it and it would take time for her to obey so it was best to tell her as soon as he could.

When the kitchen came into his view he saw her. She was already watching him as if she’d been waiting for him. It feels so familiar seeing her there, looking at her looking at him. Yet the walls feel cold and his throat feels dry, not like anything he’s ever felt in her kitchen, far from anything he felt the last time he was here.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“Got somethin’ to tell you,” he answers, faking confidence.

“Really?” She seems amused. Rio knows why, he always knows why. It always comes down to the same things. But that’s not what he came for.

He approaches the island and rests his hands on it. “I’m not here for that,” he declares in all seriousness and calm.

She giggles quietly. It seems she had had a little bit to drink. Nothing that would make her unable to hear what he had to say, but enough to forget about politeness and having to put on a hypocritical show. 

“What then?”

She feels so distant from him he has to walk to her side of the island until he’s close enough her breathing resonates inside of him and electrifies the hair inside of his ears, but far enough they aren’t touching. Still, even from where he stands right in front of her she feels too far away. It’s like the distance is not just physical, it’s like she’s not on the same level he is. He takes the drink from her hands, putting it down.

“Business,” he says. 

He probably took the drink from her because he really _does_ want to talk business and he can’t have her drink any more than she already did, but there’s also this weird feeling he has. Ever since what happened in the warehouse with Boomer he’s strangely felt like he’s kind of had to gain back her trust. Which was weird because she was in no position to make him crawl back to her, right? Yet here he was, walking slowly, talking smoothly, gently removing glasses from her delicate hands, trying to get to her.

“Oh,” she reacts with irony. Then she carefully slips out of their entangled personal space bubble like she isn't affected by their proximity. She walks to her sideboard, opens a drawer, and under all the kitchenware she seems to be looking for something precise. Then she takes out a gleaming gun and turns around.

“‘kay, I’m ready.”

“What are you doing?” he stumbles.

“I’m preparing for the “business” talk.” 

She walks back to the island and places the gun on it, keeping her hand tightly over it.

Rio can’t help stepping closer to see what she has in her hands. And it was a real gun. A new one. One he had never seen before. Everything started to move around him, he was losing control of the situation, he was losing control of her. For the first time in a long time she was acting in a way he didn’t recognize. He’d always felt like he knew her better than anyone else, like he could predict every single one of her moves, but right now, it seemed he was losing her.

“Why do you have that, Elizabeth?” he questions. He wasn’t angry like she seemed. He was trying to grasp the situation, where they stood, what she felt, because the last time her behaviour surprised him he ended up in a hospital bed for months. Who was to say it wasn’t going to happen again? 

“I figured, knowing what happens during our “business” meetings, I should be prepared for it now. And since you won’t let me have my own gun I bought one for myself. You know, in case I need to defend myself.”

She looked up and held his gaze. Rio had trouble recognizing her. They’d had fights before, but this felt different, like she was truly driven by hate and nothing else. He could feel the tension coming off of her, the heat of the argument to come, the power she felt holding a gun in front of him. She looked like a block of ice-cold fury. But the more Rio looked into her eyes the more he felt he could see something else in them. Like the anger was just a front. Or maybe she really was angry but she was also begging him to give her a reason not to be. To stop this nonsense. To go back to the way things were. 

But maybe he was projecting. He felt like the situation was slipping through his fingers, like he was losing his hold over her so that was probably all him projecting that she would want to come back to him.

He takes a step closer to her, unable to stop himself and maybe testing his theory. “Defend yourself against who, Elizabeth?” he asks, voice soft and low.

Her face breaks, disappointment shortly readable on her face as she straightens her back way from him. Then her mouth quickly turns into a crooked smile. “Don’t worry,” she huffs, “I’m not gonna shoot you unless I need to. And I don’t need to, right?”

“No,” he exhales, jaw tensioning.

“But then if I do… You won’t be spiteful because it’s just business right?”

Just like that, confirming that something else than anger was happening, she goes back to her cold, calculating mask. There’s nothing he has or can say to that. Of course, if she shoots him again he’ll be spiteful, he’d fucking kill her for good this time. It has nothing to do with whether or not their relationship is strictly business.

“Right,” he agrees quietly.

He can’t look at her in that moment. He has to gather his thoughts, fathom what this conversation means for their relationship and their partnership. Whether or not he wanted to go back to the way things were or if he wanted to go even further, it didn’t matter anymore because _she_ didn’t want to. She had the upper hand and she’d chosen to put boundaries he didn’t know could be there. So he was silently trying to grasp this idea. 

Even though he wasn’t looking at her, he could feel it when her gaze started burning a hole on his face. From the corner of his eyes, he could see her watching him. Was she gloating? Enjoying the new rules of the game _she_ ’d made? He turned his face to know. But the way she was watching him wasn’t smug or even slightly happy. It was vulnerable and tired. Could she be as tired as he was? 

The thing is Rio couldn’t tell her how he felt even if he wanted to. First of all, because he didn’t _know_ what he felt. He didn’t understand what pushed him to her in that kitchen, he didn’t understand what drove him that afternoon in her bedroom and most of all he didn’t understand what was keeping him beside her right now. And then he couldn’t tell her because he was her boss. Because that wasn’t how it worked in this business. Because feelings were simply not allowed. 

But god damn it he wanted to tell her all sorts of things he wasn’t supposed to.

Looking away from him, with a voice reflecting the look he just saw on her face, she breaks the silence. “Thought you only did it when there were other people around,” she confides.

“What’s that?” he asks, stepping closer, looking for her gaze.

She looks up at him, the moonlight shedding light on the darker colors under her eyes.

“Act like nothing happened.”

The room feels empty. It’s him and her, nobody else, nothing else. Just them, their stupid past and their thoughts. And he understands, he truly does. But he can’t give her anything. He knows he shouldn’t but he wants to reach out. Make the pain stop. But then what? He can’t trust her. He knows she has potential in this world, he knows she’s good at it too, but he also knows she's always on the fence of becoming who she's truly mean to be. 

“I’m not acting like nothing happened,” he whispers, stepping even closer to her. 

What is he doing? His brain rationalizes something his body doesn’t agree with. He wants to get closer, touch her, feel her breath on his skin, smell the perfume on her neck, warm up his body to the temperature of hers against him. She looks up at him and he knows she feels it too. The way the universe gets dark all around them and a single light lights them from above. In moments like these it’s like they’re swallowed in a black hole. He won’t admit it but these are his favorite moments.

Yet again, Beth withdraws from their proximity and it kills Rio that she has the ability to do that. Taking a deep breath, she straightens her back away from him, maybe she even takes half a step back, just enough so she thought he wouldn’t notice. In a second, the mask is back up and she acts distant. 

“So what did you come here for?”

His eyes dart between hers but she’s gone. So, he to, straightens himself.

He clears his throat. “You pissed off my contact in Utah when you ditched the drop.”

“Ah… And?”

Fronting also means that Beth goes back to acting naive just to annoy him. But she doesn’t understand that this is not about him, or them. If he’s been patient with her this whole time, it’s not going to be the same with some other guys, _any_ other guys.

Movement outside of her house attracts his attention. There is a guy standing outside of Beth’s house on the other side of the street. He doesn’t know him but he knows who he’s here for. It’s the whole reason he came here in the first place, but he was hoping she had more time. 

Clocking Rio’s reaction, Beth turns around and she sees him too.

“Who is that?”

“One of his guys.”

Beth turns back to Rio. “But why is he here?” She doesn’t yet fully understand the danger this visit entails. 

“You pissed him off,” Rio repeats.

“Okay, but what does he want? Does he wanna talk?”

Rio only gives her a look. It’s not yet the time for her to panic but she should prepare for what’s about to come.

“What, is he here to kill me?”

Rio looks outside, trying to decipher the guy, because the truth is he doesn’t have the answer to that. He came here to warn her but he wasn’t sure what to warn her about. The sure thing was that she was in trouble, but he didn’t know how deep in shit she was. He could just be here to scare her but he couldn’t tell her this guy wouldn’t shoot her between the eyes the second he left her alone in her house. He couldn’t tell her anything reassuring right now.

And Beth probably felt it in the look he gave her after. She swallowed thickly and looked at him, eyes glistening in the night.

“My kids are upstairs,” she says, voice almost trembling.

“I know,” he simply says. 

“What should I do?” she pleads. 

He tries to think but she won’t let him. “What, you’re not here to help me? Isn’t that why you came?”

Is it why he came? Is he here to help her? He thought he was only here to warn her, prevent the worse from happening, mop up the first damages. And now he found himself in the middle of it -not that he wasn’t already- but right now he’s physically in the middle of it. He should probably tell her to take care of it herself, force her to face her responsibilities, but he’s frozen in place. Somehow, he can’t leave her here. He might be considering it but he knows his feet won’t go anywhere far from her.

Ignoring all reason, he makes a decision.

“Wait here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think in the comments, I may or may not have an idea for a sequel 🥺
> 
> Also, thank you so much for the kudos???????


End file.
